Crystal God
by Simpli
Summary: Even if someone is called a Goa'uld, not all of them are created equal. There are the systemlord ruling over the galaxy, the minor lord and nobles who are their vassals, the minor ones who serve on the ships as captains and on the ground as officers and there are also those who's power seems to small from afar: the scribes. These is my try as one, trying to survive everything.
1. Crystal God

The Goa'uld.

A race of sentient parasitic beings that take over hosts and use them to further their goals…or rather their goal: all Goa'uld's evolved from predators after all and with that came a certain greed and territorial behavior. All of this swiftly became worse when the first Unas were taken as hosts on the home planet of the Goa'uld race. Those large and powerful creatures were organized in primitive tribal systems and had a social hierarchy, which….the parasites took as their own, just as they took over the body and knowledge of those first hosts.

Formerly restricted to their wet abodes in the seas and lakes of this world, they were now able to travel the land and communicate not only with each other but also with those free Unas, as the Goa'uld took the concepts of reign and superiority from the chieftains of those tribes they also took over the tribes themselves, starting to create their own territories and reigns, using the superior functions an symbiont gives the bodies once belonging to the hosts, to carve their path forward with no regards to anyone else.

It was this singled minded quest for power which drove the Goa'uld forward and through the portal an ancient, ring shaped, device formed for them: taking them towards new planets where they found the scraps and remnants of an ancient precursor race on which they based all of their future technology.

For the next ten thousand years the Goa'uld spread through the network of ring devices, which they named chapai and indulged in their own national sport: civil war and backstabbing.

Only after another round of patricide and ritualistic cannibalism, as well as the banishment of the Lord of Death….something which must have been louder and more violent than current Goa'uld society as they Unas were more of a….blunt tool than anything else.

Ohhh yes, current Goa'uld society, I can only be happy that I joined it after Ra found another possible host species: one coming from a solar system with five planets, two gas giants and a sun far away enough to allow live to prosper on the third planet.

The small ball of blue and green hanging in the dark of space was the cradle of a bipedal and only roughly unaoid species. While terribly primitive compared to other species the Goa'uld had assimilated and/or exterminated in the past, their biology had a certain….charm, enough to be kindling Ra's curiosity at least.

This discovery was, speaking in a sense of time fitting for the Goa'uld dynasties, just after the last big war between the systemlords, in which Ra was able to get a position of superiority over his "family".

So maybe it was just a wish to have a change of scenery when one of the mightiest beings in the galaxy landed his ship not far away from a tent village and took the first human to ever become a host for my proud species.

Proud or simply hedonistic?

I would say it might have been a mixture of both: Pride because the taking of humans as hosts gave them a whole new idea about their regimes: instead of the slave armies of Unas which the gua'old had used to conquer their way through the galaxy till now, a twisted mirror of their hosts once tribal structure in which the strong ruled, they were now starting not only to appear but also to think of themselves as the gods of those primitive humans: after all: what other words did they have to describe their new masters?

Housed in new, far more hedonistic and cruel bodies, something which came from taking over human hosts with governmental experience in that time, the Goa'ld set out to conquer or at least settle the rest of the galaxy, taking the new slave race with them and seeding them on a variety of planets all over the milky way, forming the core of their later domains.

In that time of peace through the hegemony of Ra, the Goa'uld started to assimilate the technology of the various races they met….shortly before annihilating them.

Starting to see all non-human races as either a threat or an abomination, shedding quite some light on the way Goa'uld start to see their hosts bodies as their own: also taking over their beauty ideals, the Goa'uld set out to eradicate every other species which could possible threaten their rule.

That this mostly worked out could be seen everywhere: I dare you to simply enter one of the Ha'taks and take a guided tour by a Goa'uld….or rather try it with a Tokra, they might have less memories of how we got each different technology you can see and cobbled it together into a pyramid formed ship…but they wouldn't smear you across the next bulkhead for entering the ship…I guess.

On the other hand it wasn't like there were no dark points in our history that we would like to forget, the ultimate way to stop a party is by leading the conversation towards the first naval engagement between Goa'uld and Asgard….one sided does not describe it and thanks to the genetic memory each and every symbiont born after this time remembers she outrage and shame when attack after attack was swatted aside without even a hit on the Asgard ships.

Today many of the younger Goa'uld call the Asgards cowards and weaklings, believing that their sparse appearances is a sign of their fear from us. There's a reason why they usually do not get promoted very far.

Thankfully the systemlords know what the price of provoking the Asgard would and as no one wants one of the grey ones appear in orbit of their palace, the Protected Planet Treaty gets enforced ruthlessly. The danger of a blue beam of doom carving your palace and consequently you from the face of existence seems to be quite motivating.

Of course every few hundred years a new treat seemed to rear its head at one side of the galaxy or another, but usually Ra was able to gather all of his "families" armies under his banner and then set of into a new crusade of galaxy saving and territory settling.

Somewhere in the back of my memory I remember Ra once leading such a fleet to fight a giant gas anomaly which was sucking away the radiation of stars and later one farting it out in a far more deadly form.

Yes, that's us, the snakes which stand between the galaxy and certain doom, screw those Asgard, they have their own problems.

Not that ours didn't pop up from time to time, more often than necessary foul eggs left behind by our more ill-advised brethren: cannibalistic spores, hair eating lice…..you can name it and one mad scientist or another dabbled into it at one point or another, usually just before the local Lord had to call in orbital bombardment for damage control.

That does not mean that plain old incompetence wasn't just as disastrous: people went and settled their humans somewhere, only to be kicked off by a slave revolt or simply leaving those behind when the mines were worked empty. A few thousand years later the rest of the Goa'uld had to fight with strange foreign ships appearing at their borders and annoying them while they should be busy backstabbing each other to gain Ra's favor.

But after the cases of advanced human civilizations cropping up every few hundred years became too much to bear: diverting much needed resources from the systemlords own petty planet grabbing plots, Ra set down quite easy rules:

1\. No human civilization shall reach the technological level to become a danger to the Goa'uld.

2\. Every Goa'uld, who's responsible for letting them advance past the needed threshold is to be persecuted by the system lords.

* * *

 _That's of course only an abstract, I can assure you that the copies of the originals I saw on Chulak were multiple meters long on golden tablets and filled with lots of titles and oaths._

 _That the description of what in particular was awaiting the offender was far longer and very graphic, goes without saying I presume._

 _Chulak._

 _More or less my home world, next to Earth that is. But not this Earth to be precise, I wouldn`t want to imagine what the reaction of them would be if I would turn up with a Ha`tak above their orbit…_

 _These thoughts were far funnier when I was simply a human on a boringly normal Earth in which Goa'uld simply were the cardboard villains of a TV series and some movies._

 _But maybe I shouldn`t start to lay out my fears for the future, a genetic memory full of awfully painful torture methods and images if death did quite animate your creativity if you continued down barely imagined memories of your fathers favorite sci-fi series and suddenly found yourself inside of it as a villain…_

 _I`m getting of the tracks again: as I was saying I`m not really from around here and how I ended up as an alien parasite in a fictional universe isn`t something I can answer till today and sadly no ascended being or similar stepped forward to take responsibility for displacing me._

 _But maybe I should start in a more orderly manner: as I was saying: Chulak, my home world and the birthing place of…well "me". So let`s start there, right at the beginning there was…._

* * *

….screeching, lots of screeching, the noises were hammering into my being and my fins flared out as my agile long body darted to the side, newly born muscles shoving me through the water and away from my agitated "siblings". Letting out a screech of my own I, or rather that which was going to be me, opened its maw with sharp fangs and warned two more predatory conspecifics off, their body darting towards me in the hot water which fit perfectly to our still tender skin.

Lashing out on instinct, knowing that there could be no going back or working it out as some part of my mind which wasn`t submerged by the genetic instinct demanded, my fangs sunk into the closest to them using my agility to hit the other with the back of my tail fins, screeching only louder as it sunk its fangs into me, the blood of both my prey and me gushing out into the water.

Before our struggle could continue something grabbed me just below my head, pushing my fins forward uncomfortably and making me struggle as good as I could with two rivals connected to me. Whatever was grabbing me -a hand my memory suggested- seemed to see the predicament and another one of this brown colored appendages was untangling us and for a moment I felt triumph as my own victim floating to the button of our bubbling pond, its eyes dull and fins only moving sluggishly: soon it would fall victim to the others of that I was sure.

Only as the fangs in my flesh also retreated I was beginning to panic as the hand lifted me up and I was forced out of my safe and comfortable watery territory…something I had defended against two rivals and the hand was pulling me away!

As soon as air rushed into my mouth I loud out a piercing screech and my dull eyes tried to see what was happening, only to be blinded by the light around me, already missing the water I belonged into dearly. Hands belonged to humans –hosts/servants/slaves- my memory whispered into my mind and I wriggled in the grasp I was held in, trying to jump out and claim to body but then….I felt the presence before me as pheromones flushed through my system and I meekly curled up…in the presence of my Queen.

She conversed with a near -Jaffa- and he bowed –as he should before his gods- stepping closer and pulling a smaller Jaffa with himself, one of female gender if my eyes could see correctly in this bothersome surroundings.

The female thing was nervous and nearly bowed down to the ground as she saw the Queen in all her glory, only then noticing me and simply staring for a moment. The male Jaffa shook her lightly at which point she bowed and he pulled aside the linen dress covering her stomach, exposing the pouch of which I know it was going to be my future home.

The Queen brought me up one last time and I felt the pheromones caress over my receptors before I was lowered down again, the Queen herself leaning out of her bath and giving the Jaffa a glimpse at the physical perfectness she had chosen as body.

But for me it was a dive forward into what my genetic memory could only describe as: boredom, utter boredom in a perfectly fine and comfortable surrounding: simply waiting 7-9 planetary cycles to mature and be able take a host without problem.

With a last screech of barely suppressed protest I led myself be lead forward and into the pouch, my last image the grimacing face of the girl as the Queens hand entered her and deposited me inside, my form curling up and remaining motionless inside of her as my natural…or rather genetic instinct told me that non distracted incubators were incubators which would stay alive and give me a better chance to get a body of my own.

What followed was…

* * *

… _Boredom, utter bored with a hint of solitary confinement which I think might play a part in my race preference for huge and open buildings…additionally to the delusion of grandeur and megalomania of course._

 _I do not want to describe the following eight years: that would make quite a bland read and would have no use for you, sufficiently to say that a far more important change happened to in this time._

 _To make it easier to understand: when "I" was born I was simply another prim'ta born from a Queen of Apophis, there was not much else than the genetic memory and instinct compelling me to do things and slowly form a personality outside of these preplaced borders._

 _But I already claimed I was born on Earth, a human, which I can see by your look is a claim you don't believe and find ridiculous._

 _I can understand that, it's a story no one would believe without prove, but let me continue and at the end you might decide to believe me…or not._

 _As I was saying: as I matured inside the Jaffa I was entrusted with I started to remember things, not much, compared to my genetic memory, and not very clearly, it was all rather blurred and it took me all the eight years to make a sense out of it and piece myself together again thanks to what I had learned from my "other" memories._

 _Let's just say I'm thankful it was a time consuming process, it left me quite some time after each new revelation to calm down and digest the information's again, the personality which you are not talking with being created in small steps, influences carrying me further and further when I tried to stretch between my Goa'uld instincts and the new ideas and moralities my memories showed to me._

 _I won't get into my early existence crisis at this point and simply say that knowing too many human philosophers from Plato to Feyerabend is a sure receipt for headaches when trying to make them somewhat fit with my new mentality….short answer: it mostly does not work._

 _At this point I have to emphasize, this was only the beginning of my problems and they were already threatening to push me into depressions or madness, it changed on some day, I can't even say which it was, I was simply…_

* * *

…lying in my pouch, the goo inside of it keeping me all hydrated and comfortable as my incubator did her things, not that I had any idea what she was doing, it must have been six years ago that I was implanted and when the visions of the "other" human me weren't driving me crazy, it was the stirring restlessness inside of me as I matured.

My incubator seemed to notice it as well, which might have been thanks to me moving more than usual inside her belly, a fact which became strangely…discomforting to me the longer I was exposed to the "other" me, whose memories were having some kind of impact on me.

It's not only shocking but also quite depressing to "wake up" one day and notice that you find your own existence as snake like parasite not only disgusting on a terrible kind of way, which of course also reached over to the suddenly not so comfortable and instead sickening pouch I was resting in.

This might be one of the earliest times when the Goa'uld genetic memory really came into handy, because you simply do not curl up and die: instead you should hurl thundering speeches at your enemy and look up into the blinding lights of the plasma cannon turning on you.

I was not even really out into the world and I had already started to think about simply slipping out of the pouch and killing myself by wriggling outside as long as possible….it staid by thinking because that already was the first thing I did when my memories started to set in again and I couldn't endure it any longer: I burst out of the pouch, not minding the shrieks and cries of the Jaffa around me and tried to wriggle under a furniture or something to be left alone until I dry out and die.

Sadly for me I only hit cold stone floor and was unable to find anything, my head swiftly hurting as some kind of incense filled my little parasite lungs and I had the faint hopes of dying by suffocation even if the only furniture I was around me was some kind of altar…

Screeching and hissing I curled up even as I started to feel unwell and sicker, my mind soaring with hope as I was coming closer to finish off my cursed existence and still none of the Jaffa was daring to approach me, some even falling over to pray…

It was quite a moment of content…I mean….my memories said that Goa'uld were terrible and after looking at the memories of my predecessors with a more "human" point of view I could only agree full heartily which steeled my resolve as I fought down the natural and nearly overwhelming survival urges of my Goa'uld self. The images of the past and the images of the "future" my human-self had seen mixed together in those moments: planetary bombardments, public execution, ordering, leading and defending from Jaffa charges…..Ha'taks exchanging plasma fire over verdant blue planets and Al'kesh bombers laying waste to artfully crated cities.

If I wouldn't be stuck with this malicious fangs I might have smiled, after all this was only a sane solution: getting rid of myself before the Goa'uld memories influenced me too much and I might become a danger for the future of this galaxy….and the other one…yes…super gates…

I might have giggled if it wasn't for my alien body…landing in a TV show like this….it should have been better….I might have meet someone import….

I froze as a hand closed around my neck and pulled me up, I looked at the female Jaffa….my incubator….her dress torn and her skin sickly if I could take a guess, it wasn't the same dark color as those around her had but even then: the genetic memory wasn't really helpful in that regard.

In this situation I should have trashed, tried to wriggle my way out and searched for the death I was trying to give myself…in the hope to end this farce or nightmare, but… I recognized the face…I couldn't put a name on it but…..that was bad.

More like: Oh Deus! I might kill someone important! Which would be terrible because there was no way the Goa'uld could stop Apophis….or Sokar….or Anubis….even Baal with their tech….ohhh…..replicators…..and not to forget the crusaders from another galaxy.

I can proudly say that I proved at this moment that it was indeed possible for a Goa'uld to hyperventilate. Did I just break the universe? What if she gets ill….or gets shot and has no symbionts to heal her….or if fleeing symbionts are seen as a sign of scorn by their gods….so me….I….

At this I want to point out: Goa'uld to not faint, not even if Asgard pop out of hyperspace above your palace and a three foot high Norse warrior with hammer introduces himself as Supreme Commander Thor. No: we simply to leave our bodies to concentrate all of our being on higher tasks and simply vacate our body for some time: we are simply thinking.

So as the realizations crashed onto me I fain-uhmmm… I mean I….I…you know….engaged the floor in mortal combat….not even noticing how the priestess picked me up and gently carried me into her pouch again.

* * *

 _Why are you looking at me like that? Hey! I'm not making this up, do you think I would lie_ _to you?_

… _Ouch._

 _You know that was a rhetorical question? Ok ok, that's no fun….can't I bribe you with a jelly dessert thingie? How should I know what they are called like, I can list you hundreds of torture methods on the spot but no, this dessert is not in my voca…..uhhh….I shouldn't have said that, or?_

 _Riiiight…..back to me trying to tell my story? Ok, it was like this, I now knew that…_

* * *

… whoever I was inside was someone important, in one way or another, or I wouldn't have known her face from the series….except if she would have been someone like the two sergeants in the SGC but…..female jaffa? Who could that be? Tealcs wife? Can't fit…maybe one of the amazon knock offs….nope we are on Chulak.

Honestly: after one year I wasn't a step closer to guess whose belly I was sharing and that was simply driving me nuts: not as much as the whole memory thing but bad enough to make she shifty and agitated. Something which seemed to have some effect on her as I sometimes felt a hand pressing against my pouch from outside which was quite…..alien….I mean: was that what babies felt in their mother's belly?

There I was again: me the baby monster. Joy!

But there were worse things and I don't use these words as an empty phrase: it still runs a shudder down my snaky spine when I think of somethings the genetic memories show you. But the worst thing was that I was….enjoying them, watching lesser beings in pain and feeling myself so far above them: a god between primitive savages

It sometimes made me sick of myself, while on other days I simply accepted it as normal it was terrible. But then I noticed a shift in my incubator….in Her….and quickly calmed down as much as possible: thanks to me being part of Her body, I could monitor her functions from my little pouch: mostly it was there to know when to leave the sinking ship.

But in this case I picked up something else: SHE was going to meditate.

Her heartbeats were slowing down and her breathing became more and more controlled, the pouch around me stopping to shift as she stood still. I'm quite sure there was some name to this but…I had not forgotten -Kelno'reem- now I should hopefully have some peace of my own, I mean: let's continue with my eternal bored—

I stopped as music slowly drifted through my mind. It wasn't much compared to some other examples my genetic memory shifted to the forefront of my mind as it reasserted itself into its usual kill joy function, but it was the first music I had heard.

It was a song, a hymn of some kind, only slowly the words were becoming audible and it was like I was hearing it from the neighboring room through a thick wall: muffled and unclear but still there.

I strained myself to listen, my body quivered in strain as I reached out to the music, it was becoming louder….a bit at least…someone was singing? My incubator? Did Jaffa sing while meditating?

I wasn't sure what to think of it, I mean this shouldn't be possible or? Teal'c never said anything about talking to his symbiont or? I just remember the colonel calling it junior through the first few seasons.

Whatever I was hearing it was…beautiful: simply because I and not some distance memory was hearing it, a soothing and at the same time prideful tune, its words muffled and incomprehensible. But nonetheless I found myself relaxing at it, simply closing my eyes, not seeing the fleshy pouches insides and instead I simply moved my head from side to side with the music.

I can't say how long it continued: only that I enjoyed every last moment of it and was nearly crushed as it stopped and She stood up again, her hearth beating faster and her breathing returning to normal again, the wobbling starting again as she walked off to somewhere else but the singing simply wouldn't leave my head anymore, it was as if…

* * *

… _it had struck a chord inside of me._

 _Now don't look that shocked at me and don't you dare to call me junior! I'm mature, the definition of it! Ohh…which song…I…I don't know and I didn't get to ask her before…..you know._

 _Anyway: the songs might have been what gave me the inner peace to continue for the last year of my maturing, the pouch becoming more and more of a prison the closer the day of freedom came._

 _It even got a little thigh in there and after maybe eight or nine years I was finally ready to leave my baby pouch, so to speak._

 _Let's see, you know that the Goa'uld gather potential hosts and then test them for compatibility while trying to find the best in physical and mental fitness, so a symbiont can take good care of the potential?_

 _There are of course other cases like infiltration, a boon for a loyal servant or an accident which simply makes the Goa'uld take the next available host without thinking about it for too long._

 _As for my host, I saw her only once when…_

* * *

…the day for my implantation had come: my incubator was kneeling on the floor and her had arms demurely at her sides as the Queen herself reached down and pulled me out of my pouch, my screeches once again filling the air as I was suddenly blinded by light which I hadn't seen for years: not that Goa'uld eyes were made to see without darkness or water around them.

I could see bright colors all around me, schemes in gold and red: silver jaffa at the walls….I was getting the mother of all headaches.

Trying to keep my eyes closed I didn't hear what the Queen was telling my incubator, it wasn't as if my ears were made to understand human language anyway, so it wasn't much of a loose.

As the Queen stopped her praise…I hope it was that…she stepped around and I felt myself pushed or pulled through the air and as I opened my eyes again I was looking into the faint contours of a face, one with wide eyes and an open mouth, screaming something…not nice.

My host.

The person whose body I would steal, who I would damn to be locked in and see the world through her own eyes while I steered her arms and choose the destiny I would take on her costs.

Till this point I was sure: I could try to keep her as partner, symbiosis like the Tok'ra….a way to do the right thing….while doing a terrible thing but….

There were no instinct on how to share a body and I felt a deeply settled fear and disguist in myself as I thought of sharing my bod with someone….it was quite ironic that the Goa'uld really feared and despised the concept.

When the Jaffa stepped forward and hold the hosts mouth wide open instincts simply took over: I was Goa'uld and that was a host, a barely intelligent animal with whose body I could so much more than it could comprehend.

Coiling up I got ready to jump and as soon as the Queens hand loosened and the muscles in my thin and long body did what they evolved for: I jumped straight at my hosts mouth, entering its body through it burrowing myself into its flesh, not minding the pain and hate I felt as soon as I connected to her, my host was female.

The Jaffa stepped back as I wrestled for control with my host, my mind clouded with the experiences of hundreds of possessions, the anger the hate, the joy the triumph, I was sucking all of this up like a sponge in the water: my mind lashing out and pushing the host backwards, severing her control, stopping her influence over her own body and finally pushing her back into the furthest back of her own mind, giving her blissful unconsciousness for now.

On one hand I should have felt appalled: even horrified at what I had just done but: it felt so wonderful and flooded my whole being with euphoria as I opened my eyes.

Eyes, real eyes, not the tiny little buds my symbiont body has and which are nearly half blind: large, round human eyes, blinking in the light and able to perceive even small details in the furthest corner of the room.

Willing my eyes to glow golden, just as natural as the whole body was becoming to me in only a few moments, I stood up, the Jaffa formerly holding my host had retired quickly as my eyes glowed and now kneeled submissively around the table I had laid one.

Looking down I stared at the….rather surprisingly light complexion of my hands: flexing them as I noticed the soft palms and fingers: whoever my host had been she was no peasant, maybe she was...

Only as the Queen spoke to me I snapped out of the connection I had with my host, her memories already being added to mine as I quickly kneeled down in the rags I was currently wearing, my mind quickly taking offense to their poor state: but right now my survival instinct rater the Queen as more important:

"You did well my child, your control is firm and your mind sharp. You shall find a place in our palace. Ata'suf you needed a new scribe?",

She said, my eyes only moving upwards to take her looks in: she was….was without blemish and beautiful as one could expect of a Queen having free choice of what body to take. Her body fit better to the general skin color of the Jaffa around us, but even with them it wasn't that uniform.

Her clothing seemed to consist of a what one could call a golden metal bikini, together with colorful silk fabric and a one shouldered cape of the same material falling over her back.

I found myself strangely…. jealous? Great, not even a minute since I had a body and I was already becoming vain.

Before I could think further the said Ata'suf stepped closer, his thin body wrapped in a long grey robe, the arrogance his face was oozing typically normal even as he kneeled down before the Queen:

"Yes my Queen, one of the local Junior scribes was send to a new fief, I would need a replacement.",

That he didn't wish the ex-scribe the best of luck was already known, after all who would be happy to be ignored by such an opportunity: being only one quick murder away from your own fiefdom.

He didn't even deem me a glance as he reached into his robes and pulled out a grey table, throwing the trapezial formed device into my lap and leaving me with a turning stone to use it.

Taking it and looking at the first page I shook my head, doing my best not to laugh out aloud while the jaffa were still around me. Instead I kept my face impassive and turned to face them:

"Jaffa, Cree!",

I cried and watched pleased how they looked up from the kneeling position and awaited my orders, maybe I should one or two with me? No….as scribe I had no use for them and as such didn't get any before I would get any ideas.

Speaking in the booming echoing voice was slightly off putting at first but I think I got used to it rather well, so I simply went to my point:

"Jaffa, lead me to the guest quarters and sent in the palace servants."

Acknowledging my command they stood up with deep bows and walked towards the door, opening it and allowing me through before they moved before me again and lead the way.

Which of course wasn't needed: but right now it allowed me to smirk without them seeing such an expression on a face of their "god", or at least a minor one.

I simply couldn't help but grin as I stared at the tablet…

…and I don't think I felt so amused in the last years, when I finally sunk into the bath and soaking in with a loud laugh at my situation.

What was written on it? Just the instruction for the third minor scribe, in the Dazai plain region, tax reports from the settlement of Da'lamar.

Ohhh you do not get it yet?

What's the scribe system of the Goa'uld: a rather basic bureaucratic system: a system in which each single bureaucrat has a god complex.

Sounds familiar or?

[End of the record, Interrogation of the Goa'uld Anai, SGC, xx-xx-2006]


	2. Rituals

**Rituals...**

There are dozens of little things,

Things which simply are and we do not notice until we are missing them.

In my case I'm sitting in a warm bath the servants had filled in for me, the now empty ceramic jars sitting on the side of the wall, only two more of them steaming a little as I regarded myself with detached numbness.

I had a large white patch of scar tissue on my elbow: now there's only smooth skin and the mere memory of how my cousin shoved me from the swing isn't anchored to anything anymore. Would it be good or bad to forget? I don't know.

There's no overall wrongness, no feeling as if one was "wearing an ill-fitting suit", thousands of years of genetic memory allowing me to look at symbionts who had token male hosts, female hosts or even completely alien ones gave me all the needed information to stand up and walk my way out of the Queens sight without embarrassing myself.

The overall more obvious differences were….mere of a mere curiosity to me than anything else, but as I sat in the water and soaked it in with delight, I found all the little things, the little signs of wear which showed that the body was: second hand, so to speak.

Reaching down I traced my index finger along a white scar going from just below my chest to the other side of my belly: a thin white scar contrasting with the tanned skin around it.

Those were really disconcerting: they were also anchors for memories: in this case how the tusk of a wild boar had nearly ended the life of my host when she had ridden out for a hunt with her father and her two elder brothers.

There was a disturbing quality to the memories of my host: they were fresh.

Where I could review the memories my genes offered me without actively taking part in them, without investing too much information's into them and most importantly: differentiating between me and my ancestor, I could not with the memories of my host.

I was her in this episodes and it was disturbing to feel myself shift once again to accommodate with another live changing experience: lets simply hope that I wouldn't end up like her in character too, but I should not continue thinking about my host, what she had done is irrelevant now.

Reaching for the border of the pool, I grab a small crystal mirror, one of the cheaper variants: for Goa'uld that is. Holding it up I stare into a strangers face and after checking that none of the servants had stayed behind I stick out my tongue.

Not really sure why but….it kind of was the first thing which came into my mind and I guess I might have been a bit miffed if my host had a piercing or something, would have been weird….until the genetic memory once again kills all novelty from that experience.

Still, getting comfortable with a new face was something it left to me, so I pulled my tongue back and schooled my face in a neutral fashion as I simply regarded it for a moment.

Where to begin?

Let's start with the eyes, after always having brown eyes stare back at me for a little less than two decades, I found myself the proud, quite, owner of two green eyes with still carefully plucked eyelashes. Not that I noticed that right away, it was simply another memory of my host, when the servants prepared her only a few days ago and she was exposed to the whole kingdoms worth of cosmetics.

Drifting off again.

Further down came a rather beautiful nose if I'm allowed to be so vain: it wasn't one of the small and cuddly kind, but it had rather gently arched back and was slightly upturned, giving it some sharpness which fit perfectly to the sleek cheeks, giving the face a slightly aristocratic look.

Isn't it wonderful to see successful breeding in its result?

Pursing my lips lightly I shifted my face from side to side, looking at them and smiling lightly: god were they thin! Another one of this small, or not so small differences: it feels slightly different when closing my mouth or when pressing my lips against the mirror.

Rather at odds with the care which was applied to my eyelashes and fingerer nails, those having been not only regularly cleaned but also filed into more pleasantly rounded forms, was my hair.

As I reached up, my hands touched only a few centimeters of the pitch black hair, making it rather difficult to take a closer look at first as I tried to pull some of it into my view, before giving up and simply plucking one out and placing it on my palm.

A faint feeling told me that my host didn't usually have her hair this short and for a moment I found myself curious, had it been lice? Or something else? If I could just…

…let go. The bowstring cracked and whirled past my ear, my arm stoically holding the bow until I heard the dull impact the steel piece left in the straw target and a smirk played over my lips as I turned to face my two brothers and put the bow down, leaning on it as I teasingly coed:

"And this is how you do it, now go and try it yourself!"

Both of them nodded eagerly and chirped something akin to "Thank you sis!," before taking off with their own miniature bows, leaving me smiling happily at their enthusiasms . Reaching up I brushed some sweat of my forehead, my long dark locks falling over my shoulders as Ser Jorey walked up to me and bowed lightly.

"Your highness, you father is awaiting you in the throne room."

Giving him a curt nod, I placed the bow against the side of the courtyards wall and headed towards my father, nodding in greeting as I went past the major landowners and their families, brushing past the guards which stood vigilant before the rather spacious, even if not grand, chamber my father held court in. Walking past the gathered knights I bowed lightly, one time for my father and the second time for the ring of the ancients in which his throne was set into.

Father gave me a serious nod and gestured for me to stand up, turning to face one of the peasants who came to ask for a boon:

"My daughter will go with you and inspect the damages you have talked of, if there is any-",

Whatever father wanted to say was drowned in a deep scratching sound as….

"Ancestors!",

Someone called out and spoke for everyone as the runes glowed up on the artifact: locking in like the lock of a chest, high lighting the symbols our ancestors had brought with them from their old home…

Suddenly the ring stopped spinning and seven symbols flared up brightly: the whole court stared at the ring mesmerized and some even fell down to pray to their gods. Father meanwhile staid in his seat, not wanting to panic the people by leaving his place.

Him reaching out to calm the people down was the last thing I ever saw of him: because in this moment the ring was filled with a bright flash of blue, a….wave like thing rushing out of it and consuming my father, with his throne and everything else which was built before the ring.

A cry pierced the shocked silence and only after a moment I caught on that it was my own. In the next I was torn backwards towards the door, armored knights stepped through the ring, their spears spitting light and fire. Their animalistic helmets scanned the crows and mowed down those who still stood, only staring those in prayer. Ser Jorey pulled me out and closed the door with a loud cry for…

…guards.

One simply has to love having them around. When he heard a loud cry and then me trashing around in the water, he quickly run to my site and pulled me out of the water, kneeling with the utmost respect as I fought against my host. Using my sudden surprise at the memory she had tried to fight back! That were the signs of rather strong willed hosts….those which you had to subdue at all times and as tightly as possible….which was one of the reasons why my body was currently awash in naturally produced calming drugs.

Smiling a bit as I tried to keep a clear head and only let the drugs effect my host, I beckoned the Jaffa closer and schooled my expression into an icy mask, before letting my eyes flash golden and stated darkly:

"Jaffa, you will not tell anyone what has happened."

Only as he looked up and then bowed fearfully and reverently before my, nude, form, which to be honest was a few inches shorter than him and didn`t look that imposing, I dismissed him without a word of thank….after all this simply was his god given duty.

God given….in this case said god was clearly Apophis and he ordered the Jaffa around quite willingly: so no reasons for lengthy theological debates about your meaning of life and….stop…didn't the Jaffa knew something about ascension? Mhhh….can't remember.

Gliding back into the water and diving into it for a moment to soak in the warmth again, I reached up brushing through my hair as I thought about it: Apophis…my new Lord and Boss, so to speak.

Long hair would be a must to get forward in the court: appearances are just as important as politics and hard/ public work. If you remember that my Lord hadn't taken a new host for up to three thousand years and was still shaped by the beauty ideal of that time:

There were a few changes here and there: mostly about woman not necessary striving to look like one of the Stone Age fertility goddess icons, but if one only entered his palace they were greeted by Egyptian clothes, or abbreviations of them: no matter that the palace was designed with seemingly Greek architecture and that the whole city laid in a region which promised a colder, central European weather.

Stepping out of the water I reached for a towel and slung it around me: for now I had no servants of my own and I wouldn't put it past someone to have ordered the palace servants to get rid of me in some way. True they were "only" human but an early assassination is a commonly enough method to keep all posts open to place your own followers onto them; I should know, after all my ancestors did that often enough and the Queen herself shared some of her exploits with me and the other "children" when she spawned us.

Strange cultural preferences and traditions aside: that Goa'uld fashion was just as assimilated as all other kind of culture and technology is seen by a simply look at the undergarments the servants had laid out on top of my robes.

Ten thousands of years of history and no one ever designed anything close to the easy and comfortable bra's humanity had on earth: instead I had to wrap a few artfully designed clothes around my chest and form a knot out of them on the back, hoping that the support was worth the light itching it gave me on my skin.

As this already seemed like a badly written Self insert story to me….why not make one of this strange and silly plans: maybe I should take control of the whole Goa'uld race by flying a ship to earth and kidnapping a fashion studio: making them work for me till even the system lords were begging to wear the clothing designed by me!

The silly little thought brought a smile to my lips: if it would only be that easy.

After I finished drying myself off, I threw the towel onto a stone bench in the corner and sat down on another one, pulling up the robe I had been issued: I wouldn't call them second hand but they were not made for me.

For a self-declared God that was pretty much the worst one could get: clothes Apophis had brought back from various wars with other Goa'uld and stock piled them into his treasury chamber with other Knick knacks, like less ornamented Kara'kesh he gave out to the local lords and the more common healing devices, which were available enough to even hand out to priestesses to show their gods mercy and favor towards his Jaffa.

But back to my outfit, the fabric felt nice under my hands, one of Yu's plants most likely, they did the best silk like this. The only annoying things were the curved shoulder pads the outfit offered- I promptly threw them to the side not gracing them with another glance.

The rest was promising: a two piece robe: one for the top with its long flowing sleeves and the cutout for the traditional cleavage, after all even a Goa'uld knows what kind of effect a sufficiently dressed up host body has on others and submissions towards a higher ranked lord wasn't that uncommon.

Not that I was planning it but…non the less, it was a rather tame outfit compared to what others were in the court and its black and white color gave it a plain but also elegant look: so something which fit to a newly minted divine scribe.

Against all logic, but maybe not against fashion sense: the top left my belly open, which might get a bit cold on Chulak but….of course a Symbiont also keeps you warm and the chances of getting a cold are nearly nonexistent.

Running a hand over the slim surface I shook my head and took the black sash with the white borders, holding it against my belly as I tried to see if the fabric could be stretched over my shoulder and hide the scar.

Sighing as it proofed to be too short, I reached for the long black skirt, with the long slits on the sides, making it far easier to walk in it, while giving away glimpses at my legs: it still was downright utilitarian compared to the flowing robes which dominate some wardrobes.

Raising my feet I first slipped into the underwear, before pulling the skit over my legs, a small belt firmly keeping it around my hips as I used the sash to wrap it over and along the belt too, putting the healing device I had gotten together with the clothes into it.

The gem like tool rested quite secure in the fabric and I only had to slip into a pair of rather comfortable sandals, before I turned towards the exit again, forsaking the make up for now, as that would have involved even more servants mincing around me when I needed some peace to think about things….without having to think of the possible assassination of my poor self.

More or less presentable I moved toward the door, I didn`t need any instruction in the palace layout, nor a course in court protocol: in my memory I had done this things dozens of time already, so I was sure that it wasn't time yet: but of course not many people who misjudged the waiting time they inflicted on a systemlord ever got to give their genetic memory down the lines.

Just outside the door were already four Jaffa and a serpent warrior, I did not even slowly down to examine them, I simply waved them to follow me before I shouted:

"Jaffa, Cree!"

The five warriors falling into my pace as I moved towards the throne room, filled me with some trepidation: after all this small guard could either only be here to escort me and make sure that I do not do anything rash out of "youthful" enthusiasm, or they were here because I would get them as my personal guard.

As I was being send away to work in a province ruled by a vassal and not directly by Lord Apophis himself could be dangerous as representative of ones lords financial interests: either because the local minor lord doesn't want one to sniffle around in his tax reports or because the temptation to put something aside to one's own site is great.

As my light footsteps touched the larges stone slabs, which formed the ground, together with five pair of heavy boost and the constant clinking of the Jaffa's chainmail, servants bustled past us, other Jaffa marching stoically through the slowly more and thicker becoming traffic of the palace main arteries.

My escort formed up around me and either shoved or simply intimidated their way through servants and other minor Goa'uld, their annoyed glances being replied with a confident smile of my lips: after all: each moment of superiority has to be rubbed into someone's face.

Smiling to myself, I let out a sigh as we arrived at the door to the waiting room and the Jaffa simply turned to the right and marched into another corridor, while I stepped into the lavishly decorated room before me, dozens of my kin milling around and either looking haughtily at one another or talking, most likely plotting, something or anything to kill some time.

W alking towards one of the laid out pillows, I lower myself onto it and regard the room with an expressionless mask on my features. Reclining with thousand years of elegance at my beck and call, I fit perfectly well into the groups around me and if some of the humans or Jaffa would have entered the room now, they would surely have fallen to their knees, either in the belief of seeing kings and Queens of old, or because they recognized our unmoving stances as those of a cult statue.

A statue crossing her legs, but on nonetheless, I thought as I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to calm myself, only to find the pillow next to me in use as I opened them again: another Goa'uld had sat down next to me and the combination of a silver kara kesh and a smug grin under his wide mustache, his dark skinned body just as muscled as that of a Jaffa: most likely one of the battle lords Apophis kept at his hand.

"I think we haven't been introduced yet, beautiful, I'm lord Chigaru.",

He said charmingly and I had to roll my eyes: after all he seemed to pull me into my first act of polite Goa'uld banter…that he was hitting on me like this is easily explained: what role did human women twelve thousand years ago have? And now simply look at the amount of symbionts taking a female hosts, compared to the male ones: 4 to 1 doesn't even cut it yet and that's mostly only thanks to the assimilated sexism they got from the old Egyptians.

But for now I had a simply choice: indulge him in the banter and batter my eyelashes, inviting him for more….business opportunities that obviously is, or should I keep polite and non-committal for now?

"You honor me my lord, but I can't currently offer you more than my work and title to be: third scribe of the dazai plains settlement Da'lamar."

His smile turned jovial and widened, while true delight danced in his eyes: usually one of the signs that you just now became very interesting to someone….most likely in an overly complicated plot to get rid of some other minor lord.

I watched him reach up to stroke his mustache, the heavy armor he was wearing clicking lightly as the chainmail round his arms brushed over his breastplate and finally he nodded quite pleased:

"Then we might meet one another again, you will be serving our Lord in the domains of my neighbor lord Narmer."

I nearly stiffed tensely at this words: he surely was now either going to try getting a favor from me or turn me into a tool at his disposal, the way he said this was….alarming. For someone with loyalties at least but someone merely ambitious: it could be a golden opportunity to advance into another household, which might also lead to all the risks included in it, even if it now seemed rather inviting.

"Then I hope I will serve Lord Apophis just as truthfully as you, Lord Chigaru.",

The rebuttal was hidden, politely rehearsed and stood in a long history of nice denials towards higher ranked Goa'uld's: the Lord knew when it was time to stop for now and inclined his head lightly towards me, not a gesture between equals, but one of a gracious superior:

"That we do all: I'm sure we will see each other when you travel to your office in Da'lamar and you might find some of the stories there….enlightening."

With those words the small talk was concluded and as it was expected of a lower ranked member of the dynasties I stood up and bowed before the Lord: simply because one couldn't expect him to stand up and leave, while someone as low ranked as I stayed in their seat.

Walking away in a sedated pace and with another bow of respect before turning around and heading somewhere else in the room, I looked around what to do, another talk even with my "peers" not really what I had in mind right now.

Instead I drifted towards one of the serving servants, snapping my fingers and letting my eyes glow, which nearly made the poor thing faint on the spot I guess…funny.

Clad in the typical serving bikini, with some transparent fabric here and there of course, the girl seemed terribly nervous in the middle of our gathering: as one could expect when standing between the walking gods of her faith.

My snap tore her out of her near panic for a moment and she quickly hurried over to me offering the platter with drinks and some fruits to me.

Taking one of the light wines I turned and walked into another direction again, wandering through the room and regarding my co-workers and rivals in a try to put the plots and plans the genetic memory had informed me off onto a practical fundament: are they useful here?

One truth quickly became visible: Apophis was powerful.

There was a certain…lack in the mood of the room, as if all ambitions were reined in, only keeping to a minimum of backstabbing ones neighbor and hoping to rise in the Lords grace themselves.

Furthermore the groups which formed were simply too small, as if they didn't dare or want to appear threatening: there were multiple reasons for this my memories said: either the lord was too powerful and all plotters hide when they met, or it was a strategy of Apophis: stopping the formation of cliques which could be dangerous by settling the fiefs of Goa'uld's who can't stand each other next to another. Geographical closeness is even important for parties of gods.

These thoughts and more tumbled around in my mind as I finally lead the wine to my lips and took a small sip….afterwards I need to reach back for thousands of years of self-controlled attitude to stop myself from gasp and quickly gorging down the rest of the drink.

If I wouldn't have been busy I might have noticed that I was drinking wine, alcohol, which had never tasted me before in my life but….right now I was too fascinated that I was tasting something!

Feeding in the pouch was rather simplistic and didn't include "eating", instead you simply sat in the pouch and the nutrient solution inside was keeping you all nice and healthy…not to forget it burned in the eyes when you opened them for too long.

So please excuse me, but for the first time in this existence I was able to taste something, the other symbiont I had bitten doesn't count, and I tried to savor the sensation as I took the drink in small sips, letting it spill over my tongue in a try to get every last nuance out of the red wine.

It was a bit sweet, but that wasn't a problem for me, nursing my crystal glass I took to a small sip again and leaned back, not minding that my cheeks felt warmer and warmer, from joy that is, not that I would get drunk from just one measly glass!

But my peaceful drinking was interrupted as the door towards the throne room opened and the herald of Apophis entered, looking through the mass of waiting Goa'uld, who had now stopped everything and looked expecting at the herald, who only flashed his eyes back at them and boomed in the dual voice:

"The unnamed scribe of the settlement Da'lamar, to swear her oath to our glorious lord, the most divine, the brave and victorious systemlord Apophis."

Everyone averted their eyes towards the ground at the mention of him, keeping in line with protocol, even as I moved towards the herald and some threw me one poisonous glance for having the cheek to be called in before them!

In all truth, such a ceremony took no longer than a few moments, the memories allowed me to see them performed from both perspectives.

But as I walked past the serving girl a paused, a hungry look swiveling to her as I stared at her chest….or rather the tray she was holding there: the fruits looking so sweet and inviting but…

The annoyed glance of the herald pulled me back from my musing and I simply raised the glass, trying to keep my face the same mask of haughty indifference everyone seemed to prefer.

"Our lord has enough glasses, but not enough time.",

He said sardonically and I gave a small nod, letting go of the glass, not even watching as I continued walking towards the door and heard the clattering of the breaking glass before I took my first step.

"It's no loose, it was only three thousand years old.",

The herald announced as we stepped through the door and it simply wretched my hearth as I did my best not to look back and remember that I just destroyed something which was olden in age than the Hera temple, or the foundation of Rome.

Ohhh joy.

I thought, my mind quickly shifting to my nest problem: the hall was full: minor Goa'uld, notable Jaffa, even the chiefs of some human settlements were filling the room to both sides of the main walk leading from the door to the throne of Apophis.

It wasn't the sheer amount of people which made me nervous, but rather the annoyance and at seeing Apophis throne on his throne with a golden mask hold before his face, servant holding a black canvas behind him and no matter how many people were in the room: you didn't hear something louder than a whisper.

As I said: Ohh joy: the great protocol.

Bowing my head, I reached for the sash around my hips and pulled it off, using the black and white fabric to cover my head and my sleeves to hide my hands as I kneeled down in cult ceremony: towards the divine being which was Lord Apophis.

Lowering my eyes and counting to ten, I rose again and slowly walked towards the throne: mincing slowly as I finally reached the distance of three meters, a small altar erected between me and the lord.

Reaching for the Altar, I took the small ceramic which hold wine and stood next to it, gently leading it up and pouring it on the fire burning on the altar stone: the smoke worsening for a moment and I quickly stop myself again, kneeling down and placing the wine aside: doing my best not to start coughing.

As I performed the rites needed for a prayer, Apophis slowly turned to look down at me, his movements measured and together with the mask, and the perfect control a symbiont offers over a body, he seemed more statue then man: just like it was intended:

" _ **Who stands before me and asks for a boon?",**_

His dual voice boomed through the room and I would have bet that there was a microphone somewhere in the golden mask. But right now I bowed respectfully, softly calling out in reverence, my own voice maybe dual but not that booming:

"An unnamed child of your domain, an unnamed servant ready to serve you, my lord."

The golden mask regarded me for a moment before a hand raised and showed its palm outwards, as If to say: I speak:

" _ **You are a child of our domain, you shall serve and be rewarded if you serve well: From now one your name shall be Anai, rise and serve me, the might god Apophis."**_

The bombastic declaration didn't need an answer from me in particular, instead my voice was simply one of many as the whole room broke out into chants:

" **Hail Lord Apophis, the might and victorious!"** , that one came fifteen times.

" **Your rule is endless and the number of your worlds uncountable!",** ten times.

" **Your divine wrath smites your enemies and your armies stand victorious!",** that one came whole thirty times and showed just were my lords concentration really laid.

As nearly the whole elite of Apophis realm joined into those chants to show their loyalty and approval towards him, I stayed down on the floor, tasting the name: Anai? At least it was different enough from the one of my host, elsewise….one can simply change it….after one changes the lord, elsewise it would be a grave insult.

I was just about to slowly stand up as the door to the hall was shoved inside and all chants stopped, the people staring appalled and angered at the three Jaffa entering into the ceremony: two of them were from the serpent guards, their helmets high and closed…but the third one: he was nearly nude and his form was badly malnourished, his ribs showing against his flesh….and on his forehead: was the sign of Ra.

Before anyone could go and execute the whole lot of them: the left serpent guard, marched briskly forward, kneeling down next to me, his helmet retracting as he hit his fist against his armored chest and intoned solemnly.

"My lord, this Jaffa brings news: your brother Ra, has been killed by primitives who claimed to be from the first world…the humans have destroyed him and his ship. Only this Jaffa could flee after scavenging an Al'kesh, it took him nearly half of a year to reach Chulak and bring you this message my lord.",

I didn't listen so much, as this information only confirmed for now: that I did not land a few hundred years before the SG1 plot, but instead a year or two before it and just after the movie.

What was far more interesting was the Jaffa kneeling next to me: his skin was dark, darker than most of the other Jaffa I had seen so far, as if he would belong into a desert, which Chulak obviously was not. His stature was tall and trained, muscles visible everywhere and surely bulging under his armor.

All this was nearly inconsequential: but my eyes took in his bald head, the strong nose and the sharp eyes…..and the golden symbol of Apophis etched into his forehead.

" _ **Rise my prime Teal'c: tell me….where can I find the murderers of my brother….those Tau'ri?"**_


	3. Of Freedom and Crabs

Of Freedom and Crabs

Being a Goa'uld had its perks.

That came out a bit more obvious than it was intended, but imagine it like this: the generic peasant never went faster than five km/h in his whole life and even the Jaffa might just end up riding more often on horseback, those are not very good runners anyway, than travelling with one of the gods chariots.

You are simply privileged: with mobility. If you do not count the moments when one travels the nearly endless distances the stargates bypass in the blink of an eye, only the death glider pilots ever reached the speed a normal citizen of earth might find familiar: for an airplane that is.

But a funny thing is: there's a small, but to my joy: very entertaining, hole in the protocol which determines how a Goa'uld goes from one place to another. For a high ranking lord it wasn't so much his personal preference as a deeply ingrained ritual in peace times: the Lord was carried out of his palace on a palanquin: his or her body oiled and adorned in the rich ritual clothing in which his cult statues usually get clad in. Unmoving like a marble image and with an emotionless face which showed his detachment from the worldly sphere of his believers, the Lord, most often the systemlord was carried to his ship, where he either slipped into the war outfit and shifted from the role of the deity into the role of the war leader or leading sovereign.

For the low ranking Goa'uld which followed in his wake it usually came down to using their own two feet and walking after him in the long procession: only important vassals and scribes could ever hope to either ride or be carried alongside their Lord in a far less ornamental palanquin.

Scribes like me fell just in between: neither Lords nor simple pencil pushers: send into an vassals province we were the eyes and ears of our Lord, not only tasked with keeping track of equipment and taxes going through the fief we were attached to, but also as voice of our Lord if we had doubts on our "gracious" hosts loyalty. We were taxman and ambassador in one.

But right now I had other things in mind: the hieroglyphs for a clear airspace lighting up on the corner of my vision, making me wince as I had to stop myself from reaching up and pulling the heavy crystal based HUD device, which looked like an monocle to me (and had a far longer name than a fancy relative of the google glass had any right to have).

My hands danced over the red orb between them, manipulating the glider to my whims, a nearly telepathic experience: one could easily start to believe that there was no machine and that the glider was flying to one's mere thoughts.

While that wasn't totally correct, it wasn't fully right either: but why should I care, a genuine smile spread over my lips as I pulled the glider up and let him go faster and faster, my memories singing to my mind as I learned to fly in the moment I needed to fly: dozens…no: hundreds of maneuvers and pilot experiences filling my mind if I only needed them.

My eyes were glued to the canopy, which shielded me from the air and the freezing temperatures as I rose higher and higher, the dark of the night sky coming closer and closer, in my wishes at least. I wasn't allowed to leave the orbit without a reason, but I might be allowed to sweep through the mesosphere and long since I had left the clouds behind. My crescent shaped fighter flew over the white sea of clouds and further and further up, my crystal monocle already showing me at seven iteru, which meant I should really pull back and keep my height now, didn't want to be a tempting target. After all: what should I do if a Jaffa, who had a particular negative experience with the local bureaucracy was on gunnery duty today?

Laughing at the thought I dove down again, the wind pressing against the crystal glass in front of me –or so I loved to imagine anyway- and the clouds once again became visible, this time far darker as they day had progressed quickly and my glider tore through them, glistening wet as I exited them again.

Below me the wide plains of Dazai became visible: a few forests sprinkled over a rather flat terrain, which bore the signs of thousands of years of agriculture: neatly ordered field and artificially straightened rivers, with an ingenious water system that was not so much a creation of the Gods, as it was an evolved system which had started with the first hand dug canals the ancient Egyptian slaves had worked into the ground.

Everywhere were rich golden fields, rolling in the wind as I slowed down to take in the sights; my hand tapped the orb lightly and my identification was sent to the local listening post: after all I wouldn't want to be taken for an intruder.

The soil was rich and dark, it stood out against the nearly omnipresent fields and that was unsurprising: after all it had gained its fertility by a boon of the gods: a specifically crafted nano-bot population which had once upon a time turned a nearly barren wasteland in the corn chamber it is today.

But the times hadn't been that kind to the region: in the battle between Chrono's and Apophis multiple small hamlets had been destroyed and lots of people were moved into the growing cities to serve the Jaffa and their family, while the food stuff was grown by new slaves which lived in slums on the edge of the cities: also for their Jaffa masters.

When one glides over the fields one can still see the scars which orbital bombardment and fights had left: craters which now formed lakes and ponds, while trenches from the fighting on the ground discolored the plants grown above them.

Even easier to spot were the fundaments of former villages which had also been turned into farmland now: after only a bit of heat the plants on top of the stone fundaments had turned yellow, missing the reservoir of water their kin around them enjoyed.

The thoughts brought a laugh to my lips: one rebirth in an alien body and fictional universe later and one still remembered a few things from their chosen subject.

As the glider peacefully flew over the fields I closed my eyes and smiled contently: 200.000, that was the number of people living below me, only 20.000 were Jaffa, the rest were human slaves and peasants, after all ten of them per Jaffa is just enough to allow them to be full time warriors: a bit like the knights on earth.

The memory of a Goa'uld is terribly good: one of the reasons for the most often occurring raids between them: one does it for revenge because of some long forgotten slight (which he or she obviously did not forget), which only leads to the victim from back then coming with an own raiding party a few decades later.

Contrary to popular belief, under Goa'uld, our memory isn't infallible: so it can happen that feuds exist for hundreds of year between individuals or even thousands of years of it's a feud between two Queens….who give their feeling and faint memories of loathing to their offspring.

As that had led to far too many conflicts for Ra's liking, it became a common rule not to lead Queens meet another, not to attack and imprison a queen: but simply kill her quickly when she wouldn't submit to a new lord.

While my mind wanders my eyes regard the landscape under me curiously, now that I had started to slowly glide further and further down, the internal dampeners making that an only enjoyable experience, I found myself comparing the sight to the hand drawn maps I had seen back in Chulak.

There was a mountain range in the north, covered in lush green woods which showed a great deal of activity at its edges: newly planted fields and logging camps seemed to exist next to another, while tree saplings had been planted on other areas: the monocles zoom function was handy.

South of the mountains came the name giving Dazai plains with their fields: through it ran the wide twin rivers: the Ra and the Apophis -humility is no Goa'uld virtue-.

East and West came the neighboring provinces, the Lord of the Jug'at Mountains I had already meet in the palace: his mineral rich province lay to the south and was terribly dependent on the Dazai plains harvest.

I snapped back to attention as I saw the illuminated earthen runaway close to the Rivers Ra south most turn: it had to be the settlement I was heading to: the local palace of minor Lord residing here.

My hands manipulated the red orb between them steadily, the nose of the death glider gently dipping forward as the hieroglyphs in my vision counted down, the height steady falling as the lights of the city beneath me came closer and closer: the stone buildings with their faintly European touch standing in stark contrast to the step pyramid which was raised in the middle of the city and seemed just so….terribly out of place.

I didn't notice it immediately but as I came further and further down I saw dark silhouettes standing on the house roofs and watching me…only after a moment I understood: that were the citizens coming up to see one of their gods wondrous magical devices .

Using my monocle – Yes, I will not spell out the name, elsewise we will still sit here tomorrow – I zoomed towards the roofs and saw what one could mistake for half of the city:

Siting on the roofs, looking out of windows or simply gazing up from the street was a neat profile of the whole population.

There were of course the Jaffa: the central pillar of our societies strength; warriors without fear and blame, their robes seemed appropriate in the quickly colder getting night and I spotted most of them with their family: one woman in their arm and two or more children perched next to them as their father surely told one of his war stories, or how he himself piloted such a machine in service to the mighty Lord Apophis.

But there were not only the Jaffa in plain clothes: there were also those on duty or just returning from it: I even spotted a whole troop of them marching through the city gates, being greeted by their equally heavy armored and armed kinsmen on the thick stone walls: their leader an elder Jaffa with a snake helmet, while the rest seemed to be younger: the slumped shoulders and signs of exhaustion while the leader looked as fresh as spring, was a sign for their recruit status.

Not that there were Jaffa "recruits", the kids raised as warriors from their birth and after a grueling training, were they had to kill their co-trainee and maybe best friend, only half of them ever joined the reservoir of their lords Jaffa army…at which point their training shifted from single combat to group maneuvering and marching.

From the way the group was soon swarmed by others, I would bet that they were a training group from another province on a long march: and everyone wanted to ask what was going on everywhere else on the planet.

It wasn't surprising, after all there was no postal service and all communication devices were in the hand of the Gods: a bit harder to access than a normal telephone booth.

Before I knew it I was already touching down on the ground and the death glider rolled over the earth, which would have bumped me up and down if it wouldn't have been for the whole dampener teach thrown into it: after all a swaying God exiting the machine would be far less impressive.

As the machine finally came to a stop I reached up and pushed the canopy open, closing my eyes as the cool night air rushed over my skin and I shivered a little in my still midriff free outfit and willed my body temperature to rise. Finally comfortable again I stepped out of the cockpit and was instantly greeted by four bowing Jaffa and two minor scribes.

"Imperial Scribe Anai, we welcome you in the city of Kaminalju. Our Lord and Protector awaits you in the palace at his banquet."

Now: explanations might be in order.

I was back then: third minor scribe of the Dazai plains, overseeing the settlement Da'lamar. The minor in the title is a bit misleading: but the point is: I'm not working for the local Lord in the province, instead I'm serving the systemlord Apophis himself: reckoning and checking the amount of natural resources which will have to be brought back to Chulak from here.

Of course the local lord can reign independent of the "imperial" (so called) scribes send by his lord, but he will still have to meet their expectations of the correct amount of taxes: something which led to more than one province being ruined by personal fighting between the lord and the imperial scribes.

Even in the best of circumstances there was always a seething tension between both parties: as the local lords resented the watchers they had gotten in their "own" domain and they could do nothing, as the scribes wrote regular reports of the economy and political situation in the provinces back to their headquarters, were all reports were looked at, sorted and finally a summary of the most important facts was laid out for Apophis himself in our system.

But back to the present:

The greeting was; appropriate.

One can't expect a minor lord himself to welcome another "unwanted" guest and from the four in this province I was the least important. The said: the welcoming committee's leader was the scribes responsible for the capital city itself, that much his elaborate clothes and the countless jewelry, which hung from his chest, pointed out. While his face was set in a haughty sneer, it wasn't directed at me but at the other scribe next to him, who only smiled smuggled and did another bow:

"We great you and wish you an enjoyable stay in our province."

I didn't miss the malicious look the more senior scribe throw his colleague at the word "our", my Goa'uld senses were tingling and I was sure that sooner or later zat'nik'tels or knifes would be brandished in a dark and silent corner of the palace and the position of head scribe and chancellor would be undisputed….for a while.

As useful as this information is: I bow lightly in return and say amicably:

"I accept your greetings deeply honored and wish you and your lord good tidings and victory on his next campaign. Might I get your names honored colleagues?",

Both take the thanks with the usual back and forth of thanks and look quite pleased as I call them colleagues, pulling them up to the same position as me: speaking to them as equals.

The senior scribe addresses me first after a sharp glance silenced his companion:

"I welcome you, my name is Mohar and I'm chancellor to our great lord and over watch the proceedings of more administrative nature in his territories."

Giving him a light nod in recognition and in amusement as I notice his wording: judging from the fact that he was pleased when I named him an equal, I can only guess that he's only overseeing the territories of his lord on Chulak. I know for a fact that more than three planets were granted to him by Apophis and that he had taken one as his palace residence: so his "real" chancellor was undoubtedly residing there.

Mohar hadn't quite lied to me, instead he simply didn't say that he meant "his territories – on Chulak -". Not showing any of my thoughts I only smiled pleasantly and told the dark haired man with the long full beard reaching down to his belly in a Babylonian style:

"I'm sure that's a very prestigious position Mohar, being chancellor on a lords territories on Chulak is always a sign of special attention towards you."

While his face stayed pleasant enough I could see quite clearly that I had hit the mark: his younger colleague with brown hair and a weird crown like plant construct was wearing a smug smile as I bowed, his body fit in a tightly sitting leather ensemble: the top covered in a net of knots with blue stones set in here and there.

"I also welcome you Anai, my name is Ozomatli, and I'm the head scribe for Kaminalju."

His introduction was just as short as the one of his bearded rival, but I could see him smile wickedly as he instructed his position and from the tightening of the others fist I could get a pretty clear picture: both high ranked administrators in a province with nearly no military presence and steady access to their lord.

I was not even five minutes out of my glider and had already stepped into the first plot intrigue of my life: no wonder both wanted to welcome me: an imperial scribe can be…quite helpful as friend.

Smiling now at both of them I had only one thought: How wonderfully interesting.

But of course I did not say so, instead I gestured towards the step pyramid in the middle of the city and looked expectantly at both of them:

"So, shall we go?"

Without waiting for them I take the first few steps and I watch amused how the Jaffa stand up fluently and pick up my pace, not even waiting for the other two scribes. The long skit of my dress flowed around my feet and made walking a slow but also graceful matter, which of course didn't make me fast enough to escape the other two.

Quickly closing up to me they smiled and started to engage me in meaningless small talk, both pointing out buildings and places as we left the glider field and headed towards the city center: the long boulevards lined by stone half-timber houses on both sides, some even reaching four floors under their roof: the richer ones even able to afford bullseye pane for their windows.

Noticing my looks Mahor stroke his beard proudly and seemed to grow in size as he looked around the city patronizingly before finally deeming everyone else important enough to say:

"This is rich land and our lord is generous, even the loyal Jaffa, most devote of our servants are taking part in its riches."

"Yes, thanks to our newest trade routes and the rebuilding of large city parts.",

Ozomatili added nearly absently, but everyone knew he was simply pointing out that this was thanks to him of course. There's a nearly compulsive inability of Goa'uld to claim having done something together. This might be my first example, because I was sure both of their policies: more wealth to Jaffa and the new trade routes were responsible for the growing prosperity in the city.

But with me here right now, both had chosen to boost and show off their progress and their own achievement's, hoping to get my approval for…whatever they were planning.

Reaching up I rubbed the back of my nose and did the best to blend those two bickering idiots out: all they were talking about was themselves – their work and how good they did it – and their never ending loyalty to their lord and mine.

There were other more interesting things: first and foremost the Jaffa around me: their tattoos were different: there wasn't one design for everyone, instead there were those bearing the sign of Apophis and those who did not. Reigning on Chulak was for most of the part a prestige position, it was quite clear to whom the Jaffa were loyal and they could only be accessed if their current liege was assaulted on Chulak or on a mission for Apophis.

In contrast to them stood the Jaffa which were settled down here by their god, their marks looked a bit like….to be honest: no idea: two copulating bovines? Drawn in a very geometric fashion?

There were nearly no ethnic dividing lines as far as I could see, most likely that simply wasn't possible with a genetic pool as diverse as the Jaffa….after all they identified far my by their god than anything else and the usual joining of the winners army in the case your lord lost, simply led to a steady influx and stirring of the Jaffa population in all realms.

So they only thing all Jaffa had in common was the sunburn on their necks, something not really surprising if one looks at the temperatures Chulak can reach on a hot summer day.

Soon I had seen all there was to see of the Jaffa for now and I quickly stopped staring, partly because I was making them uncomfortable and some had even fallen to their knees to pray to be as I passed, partly because I was getting uncomfortable as I remembered the big boogeyman which rose up in my mind: Jaffa rebellion.

I'm literally standing on the very ground it will erupt from: Chulak the first free world of the Jaffa nation, Chulak the home of the warrior Teal'c whose example led the Jaffa into freedom.

Gulping nervously I look down: how long had I left to get away from here? Ra died less than a year ago, which would mean that Apophis was going to visit Earth in little more than a year and afterwards…

I nearly missed a step and the color drained from my face, quickly looking to the side I didn't let the two squabbling nuisances next to me see this moment of weakness: instead I felt like throwing up. In less than half a year Apophis will set his foot on earth….in less than a year the end of the Third Dynasty will begin. Horror washes over me as I correct myself: not the end of the Third dynasty…the end of the Goa'uld altogether.

But wasn't that something to be glad of? To see millions of slaves freed, the Jaffa free from their false gods? The human part of me whispered this thoughts and tried to sooth me while all of my being rebelled, straining against the very thought of the systemlords ceasing to be.

Thousands of years, ten thousands of years of hegemony over this galaxy coming to an end: not in a glorious war against a powerful enemy, not in a last defiant stand against the barbarians at the gates. Slowly dwindling numbers, all present civil war and mutual mauling of minor lords squabbling over this or that planet: steadily diminishing numbers of systemlords, a decline of order and rule in a system which was created long before mankind even invented the alphabet.

That can not be! That could not be! My genetic memory cried, our domain is sacrosanct, our rule is divine and immortal! But for every cry of it my other memories pull up another nearly forgotten picture: men in green cleaning a Ha'tac from the inside, killing Jaffa, sabotaging weapons and engines…primitive peasants attacking Jaffa with crossbows and swords….a puddle jumper destroying a capital ship with ancient attack drones…mechanical menaces overrunning loyal Jaffa and devouring walls and machinery.

I was running, I did hear a shout behind me but I do not listen: away away!

My feet carry me into an alley and Jaffa nearly jump out of the way as they see me, recognizing me as who I am and whenever they reach out I can already feel the punches, the jeers, the kicks…what chance will a Goa'uld like me have in ten years?

Right now they were bowing and smiling, but in two years from now? In four? Would they burn me on a stack? Splatter my head on the pavements stones?

I exited the alley I lost them, I'm alone. My eyes peer through the darkness of the street I entered, closed windows, closed doors. I need to take a breath I….

"Scribe Anai, were are you…",

I did not even wait to finish the end of the sentence, I saw one of the Jaffa in my escort walk towards me, his staff under one arm and a smile on his lips as if he wasn't…

My eyes only need to fall on the staff and pictures flooded by mind, both from the old me and the genetic memory: staff wounds…staff blasts…staffs in melee breaking skulls and bones….Jaffa wielding their staffs like clubs in frenzied melee for the glory of their gods.

I have to run, I need to get a clear head.

Revelations are a…

Suddenly there's no more ground under my feet and I just spot the surface of the river, the moonlight shining over it as it comes closer and closer, my other feet slipping of the polished border as I can barely let out a cry.

In the next moment a hand holds mine and pulls me back, with a startled cry I land on my behind, wincing lightly as my robes get covered in the dust and a bit of pain erupts from back there.

Reflexively I reach back and rub my hurting buttocks a little….only after I take another breath I got the time to think and…quickly pull my hand back as if burned and if I wouldn't know it better I would say that I had blushed….of course I did not. I have the memories of thousands of ancestors who came before me: there's nothing which can make me blush.

I was pulled back: that meant someone saved me from my impromptu bath and that someone really shouldn't see an imperial scribe rubbing her bottom. At least I didn't say "Ouch!" or something.

"Thank you.",

I gasp after a moment and peer up into the darkness, my sight good enough to make a familiar contour out in the shadows: a helmet formed like a snake. Letting out a relieved sigh I push myself of the ground and walk towards the edge of the canal I nearly fell in, admiring the clean cut stone plates for a moment before an amused elder voice asks me from behind:

"While I would encourage my students to take a cold bath this late, isn't it a bit too dark for you girl?"

For a moment I'm simply speechless: here I stand: third minor scribe Anai and this Jaffa simply calls me girl? Maybe it's simply the amused tone in his voice, but I cross my arms and say a bit petulantly:

"I was thinking… the canal was in the way…"

I might have expected a lot, after all you usually don't rescue one of your gods from cold water, but I did not expect him to…laugh. Simply staring I finally join in the laughter, giggling even a little as I stared down in the water and then turned around to face him again, a smile on my lips.

"I just thought about Jaff…"

Suddenly….I stop and, it makes terrible sense…reaching up I touched my neck lightly: upps.

Seems like I have forgotten to turn on the booming echo voice again, so right now he had no idea that I was….ouch….awkward.

Tugging on my sleeves nervously I think about what to do….should I simply go all Goa'uld again and proclaim the whole thing a test and then pat his head for being a good Jaffa and rescuing me.

Or should I excuse myself and run away as fast as possible, I kind of believe I might leave him behind if I start now and he has to think for a moment before following, now if I could only…

"So? What were you thinking about Jaffa?",

The voice interrupts me kindly again and I look up to the serpent Guard, who had now taken place on a stone bench, shouldering his staff weapon and inviting me to join him with a small nod.

Sighing I stand up sit down next to him with comfortable distance, reaching down and dusting off my skirt before looking up again and asking after a moment of hesitation.

"You are warriors….the Jaffa I mean…I was just thinking about….what do you fight for?",

I'm not sure why I blurt it out but, the serpent guard becomes very still next to me and I curse myself for asking something that stupid, after all he will just answer…

"For our gods..."

Yes, that was the answer I was expecting, perfectly indoctrinated and happy to die in the name of Apophis like hundreds of other…

"For honor, some might say we fight out of tradition, because the battle defines us as what we are. I also know of warriors who simply fight for Glory, wanting to prove themselves against the world. Then are those who do it out of hate, those who lost friends and family to the attacks of other gods and their Jaffa. Some do it out of love to their home, to defend it and help it grow, no matter what others throw at them.

I saw warriors sit on the bloodied ground of a battlefield and wield not their staff, but parchment and ink: writing poems for the fallen. I saw proud warriors stay behind and defend a chokepoint till their weapon ran out of charges, keeping the route of their comrades clear. I was there when crying men found out that their brothers and friends had lived: that it was their fight which freed them from captivity, or helped to secure their hospice from an enemy attack."

I found myself growing silently as he told this, his voice was….old. The knowledge in my head was ancient but his tales were…old. Looking down I saw the hands which held the staff weapon: wiry and with lined skin, but at the same time strong and with a steady grip: for a Jaffa to grow old….old enough that the age shows in such a manner….

"We Jaffa fight for different reasons, even two brothers might be on the battlefield out of totally different motivations. The gods are huge part of it, but it's not them who bring us on the battlefields…not really….they only serve to make the young ones sacrifice their lives and the old ones will keep silent at their order."

Wincing lightly I note to myself: exposing myself as one of the gods now….not a good idea.

Instead I bow my head lightly and then straighten, standing up again:

"I thank you for the answer it is…not answering much but…it gives one something to think about…",

I say and curse myself for coming up with nothing better, nothing that sounds more meaningful than feedback for a presentation in school. The old Jaffa only laughs again and stands up too, his helmet turning to face an alley were steps were slowly coming closer…and enthusiastic youthful voices were echoing from the walls.

"It seems like my warriors return to get their old master. I take that you know where to head to now and will keep your eyes open for canals?"

Even with the light humor in the voice I can only laugh a bit sheepishly, wringing my hands.

"Uhh…..I will try….I need to get to the pyramid….I just no one will be angry that I'm too late."

Staring at me for a moment, the Jaffa finally stands up too and gestures for me to wait for a moment, he disappears in the shadows leading towards the other alley and I can hear his voice faintly, before a chorus of equally amused and dismayed voices answer him.

It didn't take more than a minute for him to return and he was bearing…..

I rubbed my eyes….really, did I keep my zoom function on or something?

He must have been carrying the largest crustacean I had ever seen: its pincers alone were the size of my hands! Without more words he stepped to me and I suddenly had my arms full of crab, the hard crust pressing into my skin as I wobbled a bit and finally got my balance back, opening my mouth to ask:

"Thank you but…what is that for…"

"That's for you to give the cook at the palace if you get in trouble with the other servants, simply tell them you got it for nearly nothing from a fisher and want to sacrifice it for the god's next banquet."

Clutching the crab tightly, I find my eyes suddenly wet…yes.

I shuddered and tried to stop but…Goa'uld memory doesn't really help when you suddenly feel like crying…from joy. The genetic memory usually blunts all emotions because you simply had seen it all but…no one had ever been gifted a crab like this…and not because I was his goddess or something…but simply because he didn't want me to be in trouble…

I'm a terribly terribly person….for not telling him…

"Th-thank you….", I press out for the third time this evening and hold the crustacean tightly to my chest, my chest a chaos of emotions as I think about it….its a crab….I got a crab as a gift…but it was my very first gift….in this live that is…he gave me a crab…a gift.

It was…confusing. And I didn't listen at first and only as he patted my shoulder lightly I looked up and quickly used my long sleeves to swipe some tears of my eyes, giving him a light smile as I finally heard his questions.

"Might I enquire your name, I do not pass here often but maybe I could look by again and I doubt anyone will be able to show me the way when I simply call you girl. Don't you think so, girl?"

Laughing lightly I shake my head and without thinking much, as I later learned to my annoyance, I answered truthfully (-hundreds of my snake ancestors are now spinning in their sarcophagi-):

"I'm only here for this evening….I'm working in Da'lamar….my name is….Anai of…",

Only after a moment I remember the Jaffa custom and finish with a grin:

"Anai of Chulak. It was a pleasure to meet you… but I now really need to run."

Pointing upwards to the pyramid I say wistfully:

"Die Mitternacht zog näher schon;

In stummer Ruh lag Babylon.

Nur oben indes Königs Schloss,

Da flackerst, da lärmt des Königs Tross."

Bowing a last time I quickly turn around and run down the way I have come, hoping to find anyone from my escort still searching for me….and maybe I can even get those two to carry the crab for me, which would be….amusing. In a now far better mood I walk towards the main street again, not hearing how a second Jaffa walks to my collocutor and asks:

"Did you understand that language Master?"

"No…but there was something strange about that girl... Now. ",

He says and opens his helmet, a hint of gold glinting in the moon light;

"Why are you still sitting here? Gather the others and let them take a bath! I heard the water is wonderfully refreshing in such cold nights and I wouldn't enjoy it without all of joy doing so too!"


	4. A night to remember or not

**A night to remember...or not**

I woke up.

I groaned.

I was not alone in this two activities.

Reaching to the side I touched something warm and soft… groaning again I tried to open my eyes, but as soon as I did so, sun light pierced my eyes and I quickly closed them again, my head suddenly feeling as if it was close to burst…

My hands continued to explore….whatever was draped over me. It was smooth…lightly warm….ohhh…a leg. Furrowing my eyebrows I….was rewarded with another headache, as if someone had taken a hammer and hit against my head from both sides…ok: heavy thinking: no good idea.

So a leg was on top of me and I felt something warm against my side: an arm slung around me and its warmth was slightly tickling my skin on …. Ohhh:

Clothes are also missing.

Biting my lips in concentration I shifted my legs, rubbing them against another after I was sure I wouldn't wake up whoever was snoring next to me: to my delight and peace of mind I was still wearing the underwear for down there –a set of panties (kind of, might be related to some Goa'uld chainmail bikini fashion.)- and while I was not sure what happened –at least that did not happen-…..but my mouth still tasted a little furry on the tongue.

Trying to blink a bit, to get used to the sunlight, I roll a bit to the side, trying to get the leg off me and promptly roll into a back….a heavily armored back for that. Groaning as I nearly hit my nose against it, I reach out and push it away: only electing a snore in reply.

Reaching up to cover my face, I rub over my eyes and do my best to open them as slowly as possible, keeping my protest against the sun and all noises around me in for the time being as I instead take a look around the room I'm…

It was a carnage.

The Jaffa guards were struck down next to the doors, their staffs lying lost and forgotten in a puddle of pudding, while their hands were reaching for the heaven as if they were searching for an answer the wine which was forced into their mouths by the servant girls….who were currently adorning the heavy armored figures in their next to nothing clothing…couldn't give.

But that was only the beginning, as I slowly sat up, pushing the feet poking in my side away I saw the lower ranks of guests on the long tables for the more important Jaffa and minor Goa'uld: They were wasted: totally.

One Jaffa was sleeping with his face in the dessert bowl, the fruity…something covering him up to his ears from what I could see, the frosty thing running down his neck and into his armor: that would be terrible to clean up.

To his right was, I nearly had to close my nose only by looking at the scene, the remnant of a drinking contest between Jaffa group captains and two of their Goa'uld field officers: obviously they were making it a group contest: six Jaffa against the two of them.

From the amount of empty jugs and cups all around them I would guess that they had drunken enough to poison more than twenty normal humans and that was the least!

A part of my could only grin sardonic as I took in their limb forms, after all they were one of the first to "welcome" me and if one sees things positive: after them the rest of the evening could only become better: I think it was something like that: I was just…

* * *

 _…taking the last steps, looking back down the step pyramid amused as I saw the two squabbling administrators staying silent for a change: their common misery silencing them as I only looked at them serenely:_

 _"My friends, I'm sure the Jaffa would take that burden from you, if you would only ask: they could present it to Lord Zipacna for me."_

 _My smile grow in warmth as I watched them both frown and look at each other….each of them tugging on the pincer of the crab which they carried and daring the other to let go._

 _If I would have been alone I might have giggled at the view and a look to the side showed me that the usually stoic Jaffa were thinking the same: or at least one or two of them._

 _Neither of them wanted to let go as Lord Zipacna was famous not only for just lust for woman but also for his appetite for crabs: one of the reasons he had let the Jaffa build huge farms for the crustaceans. Our friend here might have been once from one of them before escaping into the river._

 _And while this fine specimen was a gift from me, both thought about showing up with it to gain a bit of his favor as part of their ongoing rival ship: the reason neither of them wanted to let go even if the crab was making their expensive clothes smell…fishy._

 _I allowed myself a pearly laughter – I never called it that, but others described it like that: so while I personally don't find my laughter that endearing, please take that simply as me being vain and sucking up flattery- as we ascended the stairs further, the cool air playing over my skin as I closed my eyes and simply enjoyed the fresh breeze for a moment: all the smoke and smell of the city washed away as if we stepped from the world of mortals into that of the gods: a perfectly build palace._

 _I'm not sure if the others appreciated the architecture just as well, usually most Goa'uld simply build the same old structures and forms everywhere without considering the landscape and effect it will have on specific places. It was only good that the pyramid was built far enough from the river which went through the city, otherwise it would have stunk terrible each day when the sun rose and the muddy water of the river was heated up: a sewerage wasn't something my kin usually took upon themselves to build for their slaves and servants._

 _It took less than I expected to reach the top of the pyramid, a great hall build on top of it: the doors only covered by free flowing velvet curtains, which were shone upon by the bronze braziers to both side of the doors: holding the cold of the night out, while the two Jaffa guards kept an eye on all visitors._

 _Either they were forewarned or recognized my two companions: either way, they left us in without even asking for our names, simply lowering their head in a respectful nod as we stepped through the curtain. The warm of lots of human bodies and the smell of far too much perfume hit us as soon as we entered, even with my greater than human durability in that regards: I had to blink and use a moment to compose myself. A moment in which it felt as if my nose was getting filled by sweet smelling wax. Shaking it off after a moment I entered the palace hall: a simply quadratic room which was large enough to fit a hundred guests with servants in comfortably: something Zipacna seemed to make use this evening._

 _His throne was set up on the opposite end of the room, with free view on the entrance, the long tables, at which the guests lay on furniture resembling triclinia, were arranged on both sites of the carpet covered aisle. On the walls burned bright torches, their light flickering over the brightly colored tapestries which showed quite geometric depictions of Jaffa and wild animals, in fighting and hunting scene's: Mo'taks blazing and/or being used as clubs against the wildlife._

 _The woods were made from dark tropical wood, with ornate carvings covering each exposed inch and I wouldn't bet against this table being older than everyone present, except Zipacna himself maybe. But the things on the table were far more interesting: opulent dishes: ranging from filled calf's kidney to frosted and then boiled pheasant eggs encased in crystalized honey._

 _There was seemingly everything which could be produced in this region: the banquet itself being a show of the Dazai plains wealth: Zipacna's wealth._

 _I was just throwing a hopeful look at the fish plate, with the smoked and filleted salmons and trouts forming an replica of the pyramid we were currently standing in, as a sharp whistled made me turn around and I stared into the eight already red face faces, no: seven: one was currently lying on the floor with two holding a beer case over him, of six Jaffa and their Goa'uld field officers._

 _"Hey there beautiful! Here to examine our Staffs! Isn't that what you scribes do?",_

 _One of the Goa'uld said with a rather pleased face, patting his lap as he lead another jug of wine to himself and promptly emptied the thing over his shirt instead: at which point the whole group dissolved into laughter again and shifted their attention back to their drinking game._

 _I simply rolled my eyes and carried on, raising my hand to silence those the two crab carriers behind me as they tried to say something which might get them in my good graces: I didn't listen but it was surely either them feigning outrage or promising punishment or something._

 _Not that it matters, it was simply a drunken comment: which showed perfectly fine how host + symbiont = finished worldview: just like the good old dialectic._

 _But it was obvious: Most Goa'uld take male hosts and as long as it does not fancy the Queen or the Lord, only Queens were put in a female host body. Of course there were exceptions, like me, but we were the exception not the rule and it wasn't like the same trend could be seen either below or above us:_

 _There were never more than two or three female systemlords and even those were usually not as long lived in their title as their male colleagues: Lord Yu or my Lord Apophis only as example. That might simply be a problem which comes with the Goa'uld mentality of legitimizing rule: you ruled because you were stronger and could be dominant, while keeping your policies in line with what the rest of our kin could stomach. It wouldn't be that bad if the hosts would be from more rural or primitive human civilizations: at this point man and woman are doing more or less the same everyday wok and having woman in charge isn't that rare. But usually the hosts came from the wealthier servant stocks, were enough food and luxury kept them sufficiently healthy and athletic, while evading the blemish of heavy work: the increased callus on my fingers for example would be viewed as disfigurement by some._

 _Yes Goa'uld were picky._

 _But back to the point: this usually narrowed the origin of the hosts down to already civilized and settled city folks, who most often had evolved gender roles in their society at this point._

 _This leads to the problem that while it's possible to get loyalty from another Goa'uld, this is mostly only possible by first intimidating and dominating them through fear for a long enough time and usually never goes much further. And the point is that now the thinking of the host comes in and finishes the way the symbiont views the world: in this case: woman are smaller and weaker: they submit and are ruled and governed by men: they themselves do not dominate._

 _It's neither pretty nor right and of course makes no sense for us, but it simply is the way a Goa'uld forms their mind: genetic memory + memories of the host = psyche._

 _Of course there are exceptions: Bastet and her female Jaffa for example, but that's also thanks to the genetic memory, in which they remember the times before human when they took the female of a feline species for themselves: their masks and claws are still stilled after the Sekhmet._

 _This concludes my little excurse into the way patriarchal human structures, became patriarchal Goa'uld structures, in which even the most important females: the Queens are often little more than the consorts of their male lords._

 _And I was just finished in time to find myself bowing stiffly before the throne, one arm at my side and the other across my chest as I gave him the most polite greeting I could use, while maintaining the distinction between his vassals and their boot licking and me as vassal of a greater lord: who was the only one whose boots I'm going to kiss if I had to._

 _"Ahhh…the new scribe, now I will have…four of you in my province?"_

 _His tone showed only fainted interested, if he truly felt like this or not I could not say, but he waved a servant girl closer and took a heavy ceramic jug from her try, bringing it to his lips and taking a deep gulp from it, red wine running over his lips as he put it down again and wiped the rest away with the back of his hand._

 _It was quite obvious were Mohar got his fashion sense from: Zipacna was wearing the far richer version of the same outfit: even if he had opted for a dark more leathery tunica, covered by an even more ornate knot systems which announces his rank and mayor victories, each of them emphasized by the incorporation of a blue jade stone into the knot._

 _Finishing the looks were a pair of richly decorated, two times closed sandals, while a high crown made out of leather straps and golden endings was set on his head and a blue sash was wrapped two times around his waist –mine obviously looked better than that gaudy blue thing-._

 _"That is correct lord Zipacna, I'm third minor scribe Anai, I will be working for our Lord in the city of Da'lamar."_

 _He simply smirked at me as if it was the most amusing thing ever and gestured for another jug of wine setting it down on the armrest of his throne as he drained the first one to the bottom, his eyes never leaving me, even as I bowed a second time:_

 _"I bring to you as sign of my respect…especially for your refined tastes…a crab.",_

 _Maybe it was the same amusement which was carried in my tone or simply the incredible size of the crab which was brought before him, but his smug expression turned into one of true delight, as he stood up and went two steps down his thrown, raising his hands and crying:_

 _"Wine! And Food! Get the scribe a good seat! We shall show her how we feast in my halls!"_

 _It was quite bemusing to see such a powerful Lord show truly gourmet delight as he took the crab into his own arms, guesses its weight and height with a lick over his lips._

 _I soon found myself a seat at the high table, squeezed in between one of the captains, who were commanding two of Zipacna's three ships. All around me things speed up and…._

* * *

… yes the high table it was…next to me?

Looking to the side I saw the toppled over form of the heavy furniture and winces lightly: I guess Zipacna was true to his word when he wanted to show just how they did party in here. At least I now had identified the back against which I nearly crushed my nose: it was the captain of the third Ha'tak in the fleet his name was….Grenior? Gryii? Something with G at least… my mind was still foggy.

Using his still armored form to push myself up I took the area around me under scrutiny: The bare leg from before belonged to one of the servant girls, more or less just as dressed as me she was pressed against one of the top Jaffa of Zipacna, cuddled into his arms and his armor laid somewhere back in a corner. I found myself a bit envious….it was cold in the morning and I shivered lightly as I stumbled on my legs, wobbling as I clutched my temples as pain flared up in them and I needed to rub them to get that down to a more manageable level.

Gingerly stepping over a few plates with half eaten meat and even more empty jugs which smelled faintly like whine and rolled over the floor lost and forgotten in the puddles of sauce and alcohol which gathered on the flat stones and sipped into the carpet.

A few meters away I spotted my sandals, one half sunken into a pot of marmalade….and the other in one of honey? Now I'm kind of grateful I have no idea how that happened….especially with the two guides from yesterday sitting behind each pot and their faces smeared all over with the red juice paste and the golden sugar crystals.

Shaking my head I write them off and instead steps over another fall guest, my bare foot getting tickled by his expensive robes as I step on his belly for a moment and leave just after he groans, only reaching down as I find another of the servant girls who was felt in the arms of her patron or lover.

Measuring her feet for a moment I grin satisfied and pull her soft boots off and tap against the suede to test the quality before stepping into them myself, closing the clasps on their sides.

Once again equipped with safe footwear I head back to the last known position of my chair, nodding ever so slightly to some other people who were slowly gaining conscious again and flipped a sleeping Jaffa out of my chair, were his bulk had laid on my outfit and crushed it quite thoroughly.

The soup which was emptied over it didn't improve the quality very much and the only thing salvable seemed to by me sash, which I used after a moment of musing to cover my chest: modesty isn't that important…especially if you have the memories of a few dozen fertility gods somewhere in the recess of your memory….but ok.

Now covered a bit above the norm of the Goa'uld fashion sense appropriate for me, I headed for the throne and I did not get much further than the central aisle: then as soon as I had a clear view, I couldn't help but…

* * *

 _…laugh, my hand quickly covering my lips as I turned to the current narrator and listened attentively as he started again:_

 _"So there was the Invasion of our glorious lords planet Tabungtu. And one of Kali's minor lords had set his eyes on the naquadah mines in the mountain ranges: as it was only a small planet they only did a Chappa'ai attack. The had readied three hundred Jaffa to attack as the garrison was only ten Jaffa strong and a cousin of mine was commanding them because he had angered a superior on his last posting."_

 _Leaning forward, I mirrored the expression of curiosity the other Goa'uld around me wore, expect from me the other three were only fighting in space, so a ground side story was also new to them: not that they would ever declare something like that, but right now the wine had risen high enough in our heads to make us more sociable: a human would have fainted because of the poisonous amount of alcohol in his blood but…wine takes its time even for us._

 _"So: they send in fifty Jaffa to secure the Chappa'ai and ready the rest of their invasion force….only for no one to return or to even send a message back after the gate closes. After waiting for an hour they send another attack, this time a hundred Jaffa: and again no message of victory returns. All other Jaffa are put into the last wave and run forward, waving their Mo'tak for their god….only for none of them to return too."_

 _He lets out a lough and stays silently while we regard him curiously, the ship commander next to me holding out a fresh jug and making a sharp motion with his hand to carry on:_

 _"Good good: My cousin did this: He pushed the Chappa'ai over and all Jaffa which exited it had only a moment to look into the blue sky…before falling backwards again and getting dematerialized on the event horizon!"_

 _WNe all burst out into laughter as we try to imagine the scene and the narrator leans forward and whispers conspiratorial:_

 _"Of course my cousin had to kill every last the Jaffa before they could tell what they had seen, but each of them went down in the service to their gods, so It's just and a worthy death for our servants."_

 _Solemn nods get exchanged in our group and he just wanted to add something as a loud appreciative sigh went through the room and soon all eyes were on Lord Zipacna:_

 _He was holding up the crab with both arms as a group of strong dark skinned slaves carried in a huge cauldron with boiling oil letting steam rise up through the whole palace hall:_

 _"The food of the gods!"_

 _He cried and let the crab fall into the boiling cauldron, laughing as those closest to it flinched backwards as oil was send flying in all directions._

 _But of course he didn't finish with this alone: with huge gestures he reached in and pulled the now thoroughly cooked crab out with his bare hands, unflinching at the ugly red tone his hands had taken, only closing his eyes before divine light shone out of his eyes and his wounds closed by the gift of his magical powers._

 _Now I was left wondering…_

* * *

…wondering when in the night he had lost his crown: and even more important…at which point had he put the emptied crab shell as his new one?

Moments like this make you wish for a Goa'uld smartphone! Even if most social networks on it would surely soon be flooded by selfies.

Even after his feast Lord Zipacna was still seated in his throne: his arms resting on the armrests and both hands…were clenched around the bright red arms of the crabs, were he hold the pincers like scepter and simply wouldn't let go of them…even if remains of the crab were still smeared over his mouth and face.

But the most amusing thing was the way the crab stared down from the throne, its head and the eyes still intact as they seemed to throne on top of the throne lord. Its belly had been ripped open to reach the delicious flesh and I think one can safely guess who got the best parts of it.

And into his whole torso had been forced the head of our host, his short hair hidden underneath the crust and cold crab sauce running down his face as he leaned back into the throne.

Fighting down another laugh or: Apophis forbid!, another giggle.

I bowed down to the unconscious figure and turned in my new boots, walking smartly out of the hall –I at least thought it was smartly….I only swayed a little- and towards the waiting curtain.

Only as my hands were already pulling the curtain aside my brain caught up with it and it was already too late to close my eyes again…

..light….not good….

Groaning I stumbled forward and nearly fell down the few hundred stairs I went up last night…only to be caught by one of the guards again, making me nod thankfully which threw them a bit of the loop and prompted some confused looks till I made my eyes flash golden and they let me go in respectful silence again. Making my way down I reached back and pulled the sash a bit tighter around my chest before rubbing my eyes and looking at the city:

"Now where to find a tailor?"


	5. To walk amongst Mortals

**To Walk amongst Mortals**

Being a Gua'old had its perks.

Skipping lines in front of shops and ignoring their usual times of openings was quite nice and useful: but obviously the customer service sucked.

It wasn't because the sale persons, or the few tailors in their little shop, were unkind or showed any sign of annoying or irritation with one's early appearance and ones attire…or rather the lack there of.

No the problem was simply: you couldn't get anything done!

"Now go on with it, you said you need to take measures: so please do it, now preferably.",

I said, with a small measure of annoyance dripping into my voice, as I regarded the seamstress exasperated and reached up to hold my face as she paled quickly and fell to her knees, putting her forehead on the floor and prostrated herself before me.

"Ohhh Divine, If I displeased you….my live is yours to judge how you want!",

Sighing and holding my head, with the dull headache still echoing in it, I waved her off and looked over the terrified younger girls on the side: the seamstress assistants. Gesturing them to come closer, I looked down impatiently at the still kneeling woman and tapped the tips of my right boot, impatientely on the floor:

"Jaffa, Cree!",

I finally cried out and a part of me felt a bit unwell with the way all of them quickly jumped up and looked at me, only waiting for my next order, even as my voice was still booming through the rather small room with the counter and the low tables on which the woman and her girls sat while working.

"If I'm displeased than only because you seem to refuse making a new set of clothes for me…",

The woman quickly shook her head, her normal healthy dark skin tone paling more and more as she desperately pleaded:

"No…not that Lady…but….but making new clothes for the gods….it's something the priestess do in the temple, I do only make clothes for the mortal and…"

"…then hereby see yourself promoted to my personal seamstress, if you want to become a priestess too, I will call you back as soon as I established a temple.",

I said dryly, but unsurprisingly sarcasm didn't reach her in this moment as a look of stunned shock and then of fierce proud blossomed on her face, her head soon against touching the floor as she kissed my boots before looking up again:

"Ohh thank you divine! Me and my assistants won't disappoint you!",

Looking to the side uncomfortably, I gave them a short nod and stepped back between the two tables on the sides, closing my eyes and letting the glow recede as seamstress went on her feet again and the girls slowly and reluctantly started to measure me: still flinching at every touch.

Usually I wouldn't have anything against silence, it was even enjoyable most of the time, as I had to endure far too many chatty hairdressers in my life. But the silence right now was neither comfortable nor even professional, it felt oppressive…something a certain part of my seemed to approve and even wish for…

Opening my eyelids a little I stared into the wide eyes of one of the young woman, tilting my head a little to the side as I raised my arms and let the seamstress took measure of my waist, instead staring for another moment at the girl, finally asking:

"What's your name?"

Instead of answering the wide brown eyes stared at me for a moment longer….before rolling back into her head and her body, which had until now "only" shivered like a leaf in the wind, fell backwards onto one of the tables which she remained lying still.

Normally if a person faints and falls to the side, someone would at least cheek on him or her, but in this case all eyes were on me and the seamstress and the other two girls were shifting their glance unsure from me to their fallen colleague and back to me again.

Rolling my eyes I gestured towards her, shooing the measuring tape which was held against my arm away with my free hand, and said:

"Go and take care of her: lay her on her bed and give her a few moments to wake up again."

I only got silent nods in return and the two girls quickly went to their friend and picked her up, carrying her out of the workplace together and up some stairs at the back of the shop.

"I'm sorry Divine…the girl is young and…"

Raising my hand and cutting of her excuses I simply shook my head and pointed down at my side again, calling for her to return to her work and take my measures:

"Fainting in my presence is something I can endure, wasting my precious time is a whole other matter."

I said sternly and looked to the side again as she licked her lips nervously and mumbled apologies before putting the tape around my neck, taking the measures quickly and with skilled hands, which did not hide the decades of working experience the woman had.

"So? What's your name then?",

One could have thought I had hit the woman, because she flinched and lowered her head deeply again….which was quite at odds with the way I imagined proud warrior people like the Jaffa: but alas: she's standing before one of her gods so that might be understandable.

After a small eternity, for her most likely, she half bowed and said quickly:

"Mut'auc.",

As if me hearing her name would mean something ba—ok…if you take in account how the rest of my kin behave, it is most likely a bad sign if a Goa'uld is asking a female Jaffa for her name….

Smiling a little, I nodded and then turned to look at the large polishes brass mirror, taking in my own nudeness in the ill reflecting metal, setting underwear somewhere high on my priority list right now.

Another perk in my new life: One could turn up basically naked at a door and as long as one played the glowing eyed god card, everyone would let you in without even minding that…after all you missing an fabric on your body pales against the presence of a god in a families living room….but more to that…maybe later.

"So Mut'auc, would it be possible for me to get something to wear while you adjust an outfit for me?"

The woman spluttered for a moment before gasping:

"Adjust? But…mistress! I thought we would have time to create something new for you…adjusting something isn't the same as one made to measure for you would be!"

Tilting my head to the side and rolling my eyes out of her view, I simply shrugged and said:

"I'm going to fly to Da'lamar this afternoon, you will be finished till then and then take care of your business before packing your things and following me…when we are there you can start thinking up a more personalized outfit for me."

Waving off any other protest she might have had, I simply turned and moved further into the building, away from the public shop and into her home, past the simple kitchen with the steadily burning heart fire and the chicken walking over the floor, further down a hallway into her storage room, where not only bales of cloth but also her finished creations were lying and waiting.

Hearing her footsteps and quick breathing somewhere behind me, I reached for one of the candles which lightened up the hallway and carried into the storage room: the light flickering and dancing over the wooden tables and chest which rested against the wall, only two high and small windows letting some light drop down into the cool chamber.

Unsurprisingly most of the clothing consisted of the simple robes and coats the Jaffa on Chulak were so found of: dark and heavy material which shielded from the heat of the day and the cold of the night, covering everything except the hands and the heads, and even those were most often hidden by a cowl. A sensible fashion if one was living in neighborhood of a binary star.

Dozens of this outfits, most likely manufactured by the girls as trained were lying everywhere and it took me a moment to notice the chests with a slightly…richer design and as soon as I opened them I found myself greeted by an sea of different colors: Jackpot!

Indented to be more practical than the usual Goa'uld fashion I had seen so far, most of these outfits consisted out of dress which reached down to ones shins and had either longer or shorter sleeves, paired with a long coat to keep out the cold at night and the burning sun when one travels.

Reaching into the chest and starting to pull out the different articles of clothing, I look amused at the seamstress which seemed to be closer to fainting…or having an apoplectic fit if it wouldn't have been one of her gods simply barging around in her house: which turned it more into something to feel honored by: after all? Who else had a goddess search their house, just before whisking them away to become her personal servants? It must be a tremendous honor…or something like that.

"Do you think stripes would suit me?",

I ask faintly as I pull up two dresses and lay them down next another: one had long sleeves and was made from a white fabric, which felt much softer than those the Jaffa usually used. Holding it against me I looked down thoughtfully at the way the light orange stripes were reaching down from the collar to the hem…

"It does make me look slimmer, doesn't it?",

I couldn't help but ask with a smirk tugging on my lips…one I wisely surprised as the woman quickly nodded and sung me praise…

"Of course mistress, it wonderfully accents your skin tone, if you might look further into it, there would be a leather belt which is made from the hide of a local predator: it is not only sturdy but also wonderfully smooth."

…or she simply fell back into her practiced sail pitches….which was of course more of a manner of speech as there was little to no trade in a settlement like this. Maybe some bartering here and there when it came down to some fruits someone gathered or a nice set of sandals someone made and someone else really really wanted.

For the rest it looked like this, as I was later quoted:

Whereas some states possess a palace, the Goa'uld palace possess a state.

There are perks to being someone who couldn't possible have known of a quite similar quote from earth, it gave you a nice deniability. But back on topic: nothing in this house, not even the house, really belonged to Mut'auc: everything was property of Lord Zipacna and part of the palace resources. The closest thing on Earth would be the Minoan palace cultures: a parallel which also worked perfectly with me and my job: as just like in that ancient culture only the scribes were able to read and write: everyone else was illiterate.

This of course worked perfectly well with the general rule that the human or Jaffa slaves and servants should never know the unnatural workings of their gods "magic", the few which could be called "engineers" in a rather forgiving application of this word were mostly fighter pilots or the ground crews which took care of the death gliders and were able to perform a number of rituals and prayer to appease and realign their gods magic when it got moody and asked for attention.

"But white? It gets dirty to easily.",

I chimed in thoughtfully as I pulled myself back to the more important matters at hand and put the white dress down, instead reaching for the next one: also bearing stripes but this time horizontally instead of vertical. Taking a long look at it I finally put it down again, shaking my head at the slightly garish colors: black, light brown and blue mixed together in batched stripes on top of another: a bit over the top.

The next dress was particularly….unimpressive and I couldn't help but ask:

"Are you sure this is not a pajama….a sleeping garment?",

After my little question and the explanation of the for her unfamiliar word, she shook her head, even as I hold up the simple white dress with the long sleeves which would fall over my hands, while the

end of the piece of clothing reached down to my ankles.

"That's a high sought piece from our Lords planet of As'krip, a travelling merchant left it here for me and I will have to give it back to his wife when she returns in a few weeks…the black coat goes with it.",

She said helpfully and I only replied with a small nod before smiling and pulling out a light purple colored tunic, laughing lightly as I asked:

"How did they get this color into the cloth?"

Mut'auc stepped up to me and filled in helpfully:

"They soak the fabric in the brew of some sort of berry, it darkens when it ripens and seems to consist of lots of small balls which form one of the berries together…it a bit bitter most often…"

Blinking for a moment and taking a few seconds to remember just what kind of berries she meant, I finally got it and then looked down with a smile: we did have them in our garden at home.

Looking at my personal seamstress again I let my eyes glow for a moment, before asking as she was

cowed enough:

"What else comes with this tunic?",

Looking up to me with a mix of fear and religious veneration which was close to bursting out…at which point other Jaffa I had met over the time would fall to their knees and sing one praise, while lighting scented candles on their private altars… my personal seamstress was quickly at my side and burrowing through the content of the chest.

"Here…this….",

With little to no warning I suddenly had a pair of rather tight stockings in light white in my hands, followed by a set of dark toned shoes, which would cover my feet up to their ankles and be closed with two laces on the front of them.

"….and this to keep you warm….".

She continued and threw a long bright red cloak in my direction, which I caught quite easily and marveled at the quality of the color: the merchant must have been quite rich if he was able to amass enough wealth by selling trinkets between planets that he could buy his wife a dyed fabric like this. After all usually one had to travel to a few special sea sides or even another planet to get a red this dark and rich. Only the lighter nearly pink tones could be created with the local plants and fruits, but mostly they stayed far too sensitive when it came to water anyway. Even the long sleeves on the coat were overly richly decorated: golden bands with geometric patterns were adorning them near their end and I saw that a large golden brooch was holding the coat together at the neck of the wearer, as cloakpin.

"Mhhh…to keep your hair from drying out in the sun mistress.",

Were the last accompanying words as a long white cloth was draped on the other pieces, it's edges colored in a soft gold and two round brooches holding onto it to keep it secure in the hair later on.

"Thank you Mat'auc….if you would leave me alone?"

I shouldn't have formulated it as a question, but the seamstress obeys nonetheless, leaving me alone in the barely lit room as I sat down on a chest and put the outfit she had pulled out for me to the side. Reaching up I stroke through my hair and let out a small sigh, pushing the black locks backwards and closer to my head, before I lifted my legs, one after another, to pull the leather boots I had taken from the palace off.

Stroking a hand along my calves I shiver lightly as I find the muscles I had earned from bicycling with my father in my last life missing, biting down to stop myself from shifting into nostalgia again…by a simple touch of all things! Instead I tried to concentrate, my underwear was sufficient for now, I had even been handed a new cover for my breasts after I came to this shop and now I was again constantly reminded why it might be a good idea to loot a clothing store on a more...modern planet.

I was only glad that the stockings seemed to be made out of a fabric which was not only holding you warm, which of course was important too, but also soft enough to let you wear it comfortably without having the urge to scratch your legs the whole time.

So without losing further time I was pulling them up my legs, happy that I at least didn`t have to put down my bare feet on the dusty ground beneath them. What came next was….more or less….the practical version of a garter belt: so less lingerie than simply an assortment of leather straps which were then connected to a slim belt which would fit underneath her clothing and in turn hold the straps. This formed a X shaped netting with the two loose end being lead up and then simply dangling on the sides of my thighs, with both ends adorned my small gold applications.

It might not be what people would call sexy, but it was holding firmly and fixing the stockings to my legs: it would be far too embarrassing to pull them up again if they should glide down when I`m at the court or simply in public!

Standing up again I slipped into the leather shoes, sighing only a little as they were only an inch or so too big for me, but quickly found the latches on them sufficient enough to stop them from moving around. Pulling my hands up again, I went through my hair with a small sigh and gave them a once over before going for the tunic, holding up the purple fabric in front of me one more time and quickly slipping it over my head. Struggling a bit with finding the hole for head at first, I found it after a moment or too, my view, which had been replaced by lots of purple for a moment, was giving me a clear gaze at the room again and my arms only had to wiggle for a moment before finding the exits for themselves as well. Stroking along my sides I smoothened the wrinkles I had given the fabric and whirled on the spot, the hem of my tunic moving up and wrinkling even worse before I stopped with a laugh and stroke over it again.

As it was a tunic and not just a short dress, there also belonged a belt to it and that one was quite embarrassing. Not because of its looks but because of the fact it was a bit too long, which made me a bit self-conscious about the size of my waist, as it was there the belt was slung around the body to give the tunic a form.

I was not that terribly vain, that is what I hope at least, even if someone might have a better figure than me -which was again shifted into balance again by Mat`auc having to widen the tunic a bit at my hips to keep it less form hugging- I would surely not go all Elizabeth Bàthory on them….I hope.

Still compared to the bodies more singled out symbionts would get or even be given a chance of choosing, mine was mostly mediocre in the looks department: nice but not at the first place of a the Gua'old beauty ranking, which of course wouldn`t have been the same as a human one. Bodies after all were also tools, so while vanity had to be taken into account, it was also important to choose and groom a fit body, afterwards the symbiont could mostly negate any effects which would have changed this peak performance. I have to take a deep breath after this thoughts to calm me down and play with the thought of simply slapping myself after I found my thoughts wander to more beautiful forms….forms which would already belong to people. People not Tools! I try to repeat in my head, even while my experiences from the genetic memory seem to enforce just the opposite idea.

Picking up the cloak I shake my head, as if to clear it from the small ball of shame and envy forming in me when I think of the more perfect hosts others are using, only succeeding in banishing the thoughts for a later moment, one which will be far far away and as late as possible if I can manage that. Slipping one arm into the wide red sleeves I pull it up and quickly shift my other arm in too, now reaching for my brooch. Holding up the two ends beneath my neck with one hand I open the brooch with the other and quickly close it like this. Tugging on the rich red fabric probingly, I find myself satisfied at the secureness of the brooch and the comfortability it offers by not reaching a little past the middle of my shins. It might be a bit tight at my shoulders but at the same time it fit quite well to my height so….it will work I think. Placing the spare brooch on the edge of the cloak and over the right side of my chest, I reached for the white veil, which was the easiest of all to put one: simply lower it onto your head and then connected it to your hair with two brooches which get placed a higher than your temples.

It hide most of my short hair from the sunlight, or rather would do so, as the storage room didn`t really have light in abundance. Putting my hands on my hip I smiled a little at the comfortable way the clothes fit me, mostly fit me but that could be fitted, and allowed myself a little laugh: I was now on the height of fashion…which earth had maybe one thousand two hundred years ago.

Laughing a little to myself I stepped to the door, opening it and nearly hitting Mat`auc with the heavy oaken door. As I step out of the storage room I flash my eyes in bright gold and command in my best booming voice:

"Return to your workshop, I will come to you when I deem the time right to fit my clothing…I will return shortly my servant."

Giving her a grave nod as she bows humbly, I turn and stride towards the door, slightly bemused as I entertain the idea of having a cape instead of a cloak….it would have been more flashy, high heels might too but: who would seriously invent a heel like this without tarred streets available?

Bemused I skip up two steps over a small stair case, passing a small room with a bed in it and a few furniture pieces. Further down I spot a ladder, the wood well-worn and signed by years of use. Quickly grapping the rungs I nimble pull myself up even with my long cloak, grinning a bit to myself as I come face to face with one of the young woman….girls who helped in the shop. Bringing my finger to my lips I signal her to be silent and I step past her as she sinks to her knees with her hands raised in prayer, grasping lightly for the hem of my cloak.

The reaction is….quite normal for Jaffa which do not have constant contact with their gods: the fulltime warriors: Jaffa Civilians on the other hand may have combat training but not the professional ease of these warriors, to whom sinking down to pray would be too time consuming….and it would most likely drive one crazy if everyone was praying constantly on the Pel´tak of a ship.

Walking past her, without another glance down at the kneeling figure, I went into the half-darkness of the hallway, not minding the glances and quickly whispered prayers of the other two woman as I passed them….only at the last one I stopped and reached out, gently taking the ceramic mug with diluted wine from her hand and giving her a small nod.

Continuing on my way towards the last room at the hallway, a rather cramped dormitory in which Mat`auc seemed to host all of her assistants, I played a little with the small weight I had pulled from my last sash before I changed clothes.

But of course it only took me a few steps and I was standing next to a bed, it was rather small and seemed to be used by at least two people, if the sets of clothes on the box next to it were a hint to that. But far more interesting than the question if they took shifts in sleeping or simply fit in together as best as possible…which might be the answer as the other bests were also empty but had two chests next to each.

The girl lying in the bed beneath me was breathing slowly, but her sleep was interrupted by winces and small moans of pain from time to time, the paleness, which had gripped her face after she had feinted before me, not yet gone. Taking a small sniff I frowned: blood. It didn`t cling to the air of the room as sweet and heavy as my memories showed me on battlefields, but it was there….and no Gua'old who wants to survive more than a few assassination attempts should be unable to identify it.

Reaching down I put my hands carefully beneath the girl and then slowly pulled the clothes covering her top away and suppressed a scowl of revulsion as I was hit by the stench of rotting flesh.

Maybe that was over the top: but a large patch of her back and the top of her right arm looked like this: her skin was bloated at points, sickly red and yellow at others, while bits and pieces of bare flesh were exposed and festering underneath what was little more than some clumsy placed bandages and a few vegetables of all things…

It looked like someone had first boiled this part of her skin, then thrown acid over it and finally left it to fester for far too long….no wonder that the girl fainted so easily: it was nearly a wonder she could stand! And the…vegetables…one couldn`t call them herbs in good conscious, were more intended to hide the stench then to help her.

But right now this was good….the more miserable she been the better. A smirk flickered over my lips as I put the mug aside: why should I only do so little to get a few of the girls to talk…if I could do so much more? I nearly laughed as he stroked through the girls hair: I wouldn`t put her above seventy, maybe even younger: Jaffa age graciously after all.

I didn`t need to turn around to guess that there were three faces or more looking past the door and at my back…while praying of course, to avoid my ire if I should find them staring. I only needed to lower my hand a little for the healing device to slip over my hand, the huge gemstone pressing comfortably in my palm as I closed my eyes and let it hover over the girls back.

With all my concentration I willed it to heal, the naquadah in my blood allowing me to access the technology and to bend the crystals and their function to my will: warm light was spreading beneath my hand and the warm was also filling me and my whole body as I poured more of my willpower into it, combating not only the initial damages but also the infection and gangrene which was nesting in the death and tainted flesh.

The device worked more through intent than through knowledge, it was nearly automatic and one didn`t need to be a dedicated medic to use it…even if it helped to focus the attention of the device. But the simply brute force attempt directed against her back was enough: under the awed eyes of her colleagues her back was healing: death flesh seemed to disappear, new flesh growing out from beneath her as the smelling liquids which had gathered in her wounds were pushed out and ran over her back only to stain the bed covers, while bright pink skin started to seal the former wound once more.

Compared to modern medicine it was nearly magic and compared to the herbal herbs most Jaffa knew it was magic! Magic or miracle: divine power used in their own home, under their own roofs and most importantly: on one of them.

If I wouldn`t have felt so tired suddenly, I might have laughed as I turned around to regard the awe struck faces looking at me with wide eyes and with renewed devotion. It was easy to play a god…..a frown on my face, quicker hidden than one of them could see…it was hard to stay one.

The girl whimpered a little on her bed, my eyes glancing down at her again as she tried to push herself up and roll on her back again. Sighing softly I helped her and smiled as kindly as I could…especially when she looked at me with wide fear filled eyes….before her mouth opened in surprise and she tried to look at her back, noticing the absence of pain even thought she was lying on her back. Shaking my head lightly I leaned down and whispered in my human voice:

"Hello there….who might you be little one?",

It was a bit silly: she had been alive for at least twice the number of years I had and most of my seven years were a hazy memory of some faint singing and boring lounging around in a Jaffa`s pouch…but she didn`t have a genetic memory crammed sideways through her head which filled her with the knowledge of ancestors from thousands of years ago.

"Ica`al.",

She mumbles through lips which were still forming a thin line and her pale face still grimaced in pain…even if it was less than before and some colour could also be seen returning to her cheeks. Reaching out I patted them gently and pushed some of her dark brown hair out of her face, before asking once again:

"How did you wound your back?",

She grimaced even stronger for a moment, her hands clenching her bed covers as she simply gasped:

"Dyer….too close to…..hot pot…..burned."

Nodding I took the ceramic mug up once again, leaning forward and bringing it to her lips: her eyes flickering from indecision and fear to eagerness and quickly drowsiness…as whatever herbs they had mixed into the drink were affecting her and her large brown eyes quickly fell shut and she sunk back into a soft slumber.

Setting the mug aside I stood up and turned to the door, facing Mat`auc and her other three assistants where were quick to fall to their knees, praying me thanks as I stepped to them and intoned:

"As you can see. Server me well and I will take care of you: you will be mine and I will watch after you, no matter what trouble you run into…"

I smirked as they looked up and did my best sinister look…the one which had taken multiple hundred years for my ancestors to develop….before saying softly:

"And you can guess what happens to those who disappoint me…"


	6. My home is my castle

**My Home is my castle**

It was…homey? I guess…in the same way an old and well-worn wooden floor with age old stains could be seen as homey: it was simply put: old. However the last scribe must have been, I wouldn`t be surprised if he would have had the same appetite and mannerism as that fat scientist Baal had serving him, what was his name? Nilus? Nevtus? Something like that.

The only part of the house, mansion to be a bit grandiose, that seemed to be in perfect order was the kitchen. As for the rest, the less said the better. Most of the building structure seemed to be from the days Camulus had ruled Chulak and as such the house had a certain ancient Greek touch to it. A small entrance hall was the first part one saw when entering: a small pool for rainwater cooling and refreshing the windowless room, the only light falling down through an opening in the roof. From there on, one stepped into the column framed courtyard, with another pool and what might have once been a garden. Right now I was mostly looking at the withered remains of a few herbs and plants that might have once been used in the kitchen. Which in turn was on the right side of the courtyard, if one entered from the entrance hall, together with the other rooms intended for my servants and staff. After setting down my seamstress and her assistants in two of the larger room and instructing them to start cleaning their part of the house, I inspected the left side first.

Unsurprising for the dwelling of someone of my kind, it had a treasure chamber…or more like an oversized larder. I was rather surprised with its size, as I entered the first time I nearly slipped on the chairs as the cool air suddenly hit me and I passed underneath a stone arch, stepping into the vaulted cellar fully. It was at least as big as the courtyard and fully clad with stone masonry, the same dark grey which was so predominant on Chulak as building material. Running my hands along the walls I nodded approvingly, there was only a little amount of moistness gathered on the stone, even if all the pores littered over its surface would never endear it to me in an aesthetical way.

The stone was sturdy, so it wasn`t that surprising that the basement and the fundament of the mansion where build from it, the hill it was built on top of was too soft: mostly being chalkstone that might be formed quite easily, but didn't really work out as building material.

But back to my larder…uhm…basement, which had a rather comfortable temperature when compared to the rest of Chulak. As the mansion did not have a landing field I couldn`t take my glider again and spare myself from the old fashioned way of travelling. As such I had the first-hand experience to first of all see that roadmaking seemed to be something more common under Cronos rule than it was right now under Apophis: a fact which one could quite clearly see after inspecting what passed for a road network around here. Between the larger cities, which reached sizes of up to only 40.000 people and that even with the longer life span Jaffa enjoyed.

Again I have started to babble about something other than my basement. But I guess this isn`t that important anymore, I soon had to vacate it anyway, as the woman of the local village arrive to get everything ready for me, as in the last three months between my predecessors death and my enlistment nearly no one had entered this building.

As the first ones arrived I soon found myself subjected to the sheer...worship of the Jaffa! I could understand the piety and the adoration they showed at the ceremonies in the temples or at the palaces, both of which were rather similar, but this adoration being directed to me? On one hand my genetic memory was whispering to enjoy it and to take it as nothing more than what I deserve from the primitive creatures. The memories of my host were not helping much, her father had not been a god-king but…

I quickly stride away –excusing yourself is something one does not even always do with equals- and take the next door, gasping a bit pleasantly surprised as a cool breeze hits my face. Only a step further and I would have stepped into my own personal water pool, not one to swim mind you, but one which gathers rainwater and cools the whole room in the day. Stepping around it gingerly and letting my gaze sweep through the room I smile a bit, while it was certainly nothing at all like my desk at home (it was clearly missing a computer), it was strangely familiar nonetheless. It reminded me of university. The room had no windows, but each of the wall was painted in multicolour frescos that imitated masonry, maybe even certain kinds of marble? The floor certainly could be marble, it was rather smooth and shining, with just the right swirling texture one would expect, but it could just as well be some rather high quality stucco moulded and painted to look like the real thing. Who cared? I was busy stopping myself from laughing out loudly as I stared at the frescos. It was rather simply partitioned: a large blue base zone which imitated square stone slabs with some depth, above it, only divide by a small band-frieze, a large central zone which was drawn to look like masonry of bricks: with multiple colours. Compared to that the top was nearly boring with its simple red colouring which went along the whole wall. It made one wonder if Cronos visited the Greek again when they colonized Magna Graecia or was this simply a case of parallel development? If no Goa'uld set a foot onto earth after Ra lost access to the Chappa'ai, how could…

Ra.

No time to day dream Anai, the next time a Gua'old would access the Earth Chappa'ai wasn't that far away anymore, it had only been days since the messenger bringing the news of Ra's death had arrived and Lord Apophis was already reacting as fast as possible, trying to grab as many Jaffa, ships and planets as he could from his brothers former estates. I'm not sure how one could describe the current galactic situation: maybe compare it to the death of a Japanese Shogun who leaves no clear successor and whose clan is unable to hold the title? Or would the theory of peace through hegemony fit better? Maybe a bit from both. With the strangest of the Systemlords, the judge, jury and executioner in any case of overly aggression which works against his treaties death… now was the time to sharpen your blades and look eagerly at your neighbour's possessions.

All over the galaxy Gua'old Lords were calling upon their vassals and their Jaffa, while mothballed ships were pulled out of shipyards after thousands of years of uneasy peace and localized conflicts. None of them really wanted to go all out right now, rather they each had their little goal: a nudge on the border stones here, a few more slaves there, or if you were a Systemlord: one planet couldn't hurt you, or? But no one wanted the start a great war in 1914 and still… I do know what's going to happen to all those armies, all those ships and the hundreds of planets under Gua'old rule. Maybe I could not really say which fate was awaiting each planet or each Jaffa, but I was sure: in less than ten years there would be less of the Gua'old empires left than of Old Europe after the First World War.

The storm was coming and not even my little office was spared from the waves of changes that were sweeping through all Gua'old circles as we once again entered a time of concurrence, which had last been seen before the reign of Ra nearly twenty thousand years ago. In my little sphere the influence of what was to come was pretty clear: a single scroll lying on my table. I had pulled it out of the two low shelves, which reminded me of the ones used to hold wine, and hadn't dared to open it yet. Whatever else could be said about my predecessor: he had been efficient and capable: when I took over the room I had found prepared data slates which had informed me of the last actualization and the filling system he had used to order all scrolls. One hieroglyph for the category, one number which showed me which list I was looking at and a last exchangeable third glyph on messages to show their priority.

As I sat down on my stool…or was it a chair? I'm not quite sure. It's a collapsible chair like the own they claim to have found from Karl the Great…alas it had no backrest and I was forced to either sit straight or slouch forward to sit comfortably. Licking my lips a little, a habit of tension which, to my mortification, came not from my prior habits but those of my host, I opened the scrolls looking at the neat roles of Papyrus, spotted and discoloured papyrus: as more and more length had been added to it. Having all the data in paper wouldn`t have been necessary, if the administration would have been 100% recruited from Gua…my kind. But as there was the simple fact that paperwork wasn`t really suited to us -compared to pillaging, burning, fighting or simply enjoying life-, only the mayor hubs or the districts themselves had someone like me overlooking them. So the minor before my title was a bit deceptive, in fact I had a whole group of Jaffa under me, each of them with years of combat experience, a loyal and incorruptible sentiment and … a cribbing wound: mostly missing hands, feet, or whole limbs.

Before being wounded most of them had been leaders of smaller fire teams or even larger company sized formations and had done their job with enough brilliance to be rewarded with a new career choice, or rather assignment, after they got unsuitable for either the fields of valour or those of their family. It wasn't such a bad idea…compared to the human habit of taking the lack of a limb, which was lost for god, nation and head of state, as a qualification to teach. With the lack of a public educational system they at least couldn't dabble into those fields.

I made myself shove the thoughts away and instead reached to my right, pulling on a string which went along the wall and through a hole just below the ceiling it reached into the smaller office next to me, where one of those cripples [Sorry. But there's really no other label for them in this society (it's not derogatory)], was carrying out his duties to the flickering light of a candle and with even more scrolls littering the floor and walls around him. Later on I had some looks into the offices of other clerks like me and I could only faintly make out distinctions between the different preferences they had…some loved their rather Indian paper chaos, while others were more African in their set up, keeping all papers out of their office and safely at home instead. It goes without saying that home was only a few steps away and easy for a servant to get.

"Lateus?",

I asked as I heard the heavy metallic footsteps and looked up from the scroll to look into a grizzly face, with half of its side torn and molten after he took a far to close encounter with a staff weapons plasma discharge. That he survived had been seen as a favour from the gods and he quickly become something akin to a good luck charm in his home village and his family. He was more than a hundred years old, having been born around the time of the Franco-Prussian war and while I did think the practice of making former warriors like him into scribes wasn't that bad….he simply never seemed to think of himself other than a warrior and that even more than everyone else in this warrior culture did. I'm quite sure he is one of the most faithful Jaffa around me, even now he went on his knees and bowed to me respectfully and it took me most of the afternoon to talk him into only kneeling down with one knee on the ground, elsewise he would do a full proskynese. Afterwards it would take ages for him to get up again, with most of his right leg missing from the stump down and his wooden prosthesis not really helping like a modern one would. While his crutch might help, his insistence on wearing the full chainmail and breastplate armour, every time he came to work did not. But could you really stare down his face, which had a certain closeness to hard and crooked wood and say no?

I blame this weak spot of mine of having seen him having already build a little shrine dedicated to me at his workplace…I mean….I might not be a goddess but…if he has chosen me as his patron goddess I at least could…put up with his oddities. Not that he wasn't simply extremely useful.

"Divine. What can your humble servant help you with?",

He said reverently and I felt another shudder running down my spine, while one part of me bathed in his adoration…so I quickly stomped down on that traitorous notion: bad Goa'uld instincts. Gesturing for him to stand up, which he as usually –he did it so often, that it had already something I grew to expect after the few hours since I meet him – tried to fend off with some pious lines and I could barely stop myself from reaching out to help him up each time he struggled to get onto his wooden leg. I'm not sure if he could have forgiven me that even if I was his goddess.

"Lateus it's about the list: how does one normally proceed in such a case?"

The elderly – not going to call someone with that kind of expression old- Jaffa trembled lightly with his crutch as he reached up and stroke over his chin, faint traces of silver hair moving under his hands, while his eyes looked at the scroll contemplative:

"There's a sanctuary which was once dedicated to the god Cronos. After our Lord Apophis, may he reign eternal, wrestled this world from his rival them temple was dedicated to our true Lord instead. When I first went to fight for our victorious and divine Lord I followed the standards of his to the holy grounds before it, where each family send their sons and fathers and it was fought for the honor of marching into battle."

He said it in a reverent tone and his eyes glanced over as if he was seeing that day once more in his memories…I wouldn't put it past him to do so. But for the moment I was relieved, putting down the scrolls with the number of families for each settlement and shook my head: thankfully I didn't have to ride out like the scribe in Mulan and ask everyone for one son from every family. I had seen the standards of course, they were settled into a monopteros in front of my mansion, overlooking the closest village from a small hill and a place of worship dedicated to Lord Apophis: so of course one of my first acts around her had been the lead the cult for him: sacrificing flowers and fruits for him. At least in those ceremonies they Jaffa were pretty progressive, I'm not sure if I could have watched a whole cow burn for hours till it became ash.

"And what do you think of the numbers? 4000 Warriors for this seasons campaigns, would that have effects on the next harvest if so many able man are missing?",

He seemed to mull my question over and I was trying to find a question to this myself: The Dazai plains were a prosperous area with the name giving Dazai river flowing through it and a rich earth making harvests rich and secure: it wasn't surprising that there were around 20.000 Jaffa living spread through the hamlets and smaller homesteads that littered the area. The homesteads seemed to be most common: groups of houses inhabited by one clan or family, which toiled the floor since thousands of years, with decorations that trace back just as long, showing their service to their goods through trophies and old weapons.

Still: nearly all families were self-sufficient with their agriculture and only the larger cities with more than three thousand inhabitants had a notable number of craftsman that produced tools and luxury goods: which in turn were given out by the palace scribes to those Jaffa that needed new tools. That in turn brought up difficulties when mobilizing the warriors for lengthy campaigns, unlike the constantly serving warriors of the lifeguards or those that man the ships of the fleet, the levy warriors could only be used for short campaigns and attacks before the harvest and after they had planted their fields. So sending out a good quarter of the total population: it was mind boggling when compared to the drafts that came up in our history. I faintly remember that Rome had Earths record of total militarization of their society in the second Punic wars: with up to 10% of their whole population armed and in the army (largely death at the end of it too).

"If the return home before the harvest. Does our Lord Apophis…",

Lateus began, seeing the same problem but quickly stopped, piously gazing down as she mumbles some sort of excuse about trying to fathom the gods will and instead stared back at the scrolls again. Sighing softly I reached up and rubbed my temples lightly, brushing the hair away from them, before I looked at the Jaffa once more:

"I do not know what kind of campaigns the warriors from Dazai will take part in, but with the brunt of the last calls falling onto our neighbors it is now our turn to carry most of the recruitment: the other two regions together will send 4000 of their best warriors and the silos are still half full and should be enough to feed them till they reach the enemy….as for their families.",

Tapping against my chin lightly, I reached towards the drawer with the messages that come from Da'lamar, where Lord Zipacna seemed to remember me or rather my guest present. Pulling it out, I presented it to Lateus, who fluently but not overly swiftly, took in the words:

"Lord Zipacna, praised be his name, would send us human workers to help out with the harvest? The crops will be ripe to harvest in a two or three months, which would mean that the warriors need to gather soon and start their training if they want to arrive at the enemy when he's nearly finished harvesting. "

Nodding to him, I put the scroll back again and flared my eyes golden, something one simply had to do once in a while to keep the Jaffa…happy:

" **So be it Jaffa. We will gather the warriors in three days: for the glory of our Lord. Jaffa! Cree!",**

Lateus was certainly happy, happy enough to fall to his knees and start praying to me on the spot. Which was still kind of odd for an Jaffa but if he really survived a plasma bolt to his face: who am I to call him out for it? At least he straightened once again as I said Cree and swiftly limbed out of my office, letting me take a deep breath and sink back into my chair again.

I was pretty sure my room and bed hadn't been finished yet and even if it was, I still had to choose new servants from the woman who were taking care of the mansion right now and tiding up the last unused places…I could still hear their voices coming in from outside: my door simply wasn't soundproof. Servants, yes they were…

"… _here to take care of everything daughter."_

" _But why father?", I asked, looking up to the large bearded man…kind…in front of my, my eyebrows furrowing as I looked out of my window again, seeing the people moving all around the courtyard to prepare for the fest this evening._

 _The large man only chuckled, reaching down and placing a hand on my head, pointing out of the window, one strong hand encompassing everything of the castle I could see:_

" _It's the way the gods have organized the world: we are their chosen ones and rule to preserve the order of the world: as such it's only natural that the others are going to serve us for our great goal. What would they be without us to rule them? Not more than pack of unruly animals that couldn`t do anything together."_

 _I'm not sure why, but my lips pressed against another as I tried to understand my father's words, slowly looking down at the servants again: Mai my nanny was somewhere down there._

" _So we are ruling to help them?"_

 _I asked and only got loud laugh from my father, who seemed to hold his belly from laughing before looking at me with the found look one would give small children and petted my hair again, playing a little with my ponytail._

" _Don't be silly my girl: they live to serve us, that's the place the gods have given to the in creation: to serve their betters, so those can concentrate on more important tasks and of course defend those unlucky creatures."_

 _Was nanny Mai a creature? Like a cute bunny? Father was confusing me again:_

" _Creatures father?"_

 _He gave me a nod and started to explain:_

" _They are hardly better than animals my girl, true they are a step above them, but true humanity? That is something which can only be reached through piety, humility and the knowledge of the arts my dear, the commoners are not even capable to grasp those concepts, so they can never gain true humanity and it falls onto us to shield and lead them.",_

 _That did make sense, didn't it? Nanny Mai couldn't read what I was writing and she didn't know all the poems I had learned about the ancient Kings, Queens and Gods…but Mai could sing, so wonderfully! Maybe she was something akin to a bird that…_

I gasped and quickly straightened again, reaching up and moving my white cloth to better cover my hair after I had just fallen asleep on my chair. Gua'old healing and such was nice, but I still had to deal with my cheek falling asleep when I simply nap on my desk: a good time to massage life back into it. A weird dream...or not a dream at all? A shiver ran down my spine: another of those memories, I really, really want them to stop. I do not want to know just who my host was and what kind of life I had ruined, I had problems enough already.

Standing up from my seat, I reached up and stretched myself lightly, at least some of my ancestors had been successful warlords and stretching exercises had been part of their warm ups for training: while I did it mostly to wake up. And it did work, soon I found myself pacing in my office, unwilling to continue with sifting through the documents on my first day and so I went out to do the more important things.

"You there, are you married?"

I asked the first female Jaffa I ran into abruptly. She for her part, spun around with wide fearful eyes and quickly sunk to her knees as soon as she looked up into my eyes and I let them glow golden.

"No, I'm not Lady Anai."

Nodding absently I gestured towards the servant part of the mansion and said slightly disinterested and only wanting to have the whole staff hiring behind me:

"Good, you can choose one of the servant rooms, bring a friend if you have one to work for me.",

While she was still bubbling her thanks for this great honor I was moving towards the next group of Jaffa, my eyes spotting an older woman, who seemed to have an aura of authority around her:

"Are you married?",

I asked with an arched eyebrow, the woman before me falling to their knees as I gazed down at her and waited impatiently:

"No I'm not anymore Lady Anai, my husband fell in battle when the last followers of Cronos tried to topple the Cult of our Lord Apophis in Da'lamar.",

With a nod I gesture towards the kitchen and ask simply: "Can you cook?", while I could theoretically, it was never good to do so when everyone thinks you are a god.

To my delight, I'm not a glutton!, the woman nods softly and keeps her eyes on the floor: "I can do so my Lady, I had also organized the household of my man for a long time when he was in the field."

My mood brightened nearly instantly at those information's: the chance to put more work onto someone else, especially something as mundane as organizing the household? With a haughty mask under which I hide my glee, I gave her a nod and gesture towards the first girl:

"In that case you can see yourself as belonging to my household now, the other servants will be under your direction. Wrap things up here.",

I said with a last look at everyone and moved towards the private quarters of mine. After nearly giving the last two woman who had changed my bed sheets a heart attack, by standing behind them for some minutes and eyeing them critically before they turned around and shrieked as they saw me, I could finally fall into my bed.

And another day in my life as alien parasite was coming to an end, which was good. At least until I remembered what another day spent meant: another day closer to the beginning of the Stargate series, another day closer to a decade of chaos and nearly ends of the world. I honestly had no idea how to play this: its not like I could simply go to Earth and say that I'm one of them and only misplaced in a Gua'old body…not going to work. I was the enemy, I couldn't even play collaborator like Teal'c did with them: if I had to spend the next decades of my life in a cell this was the optimistic outlook compared to the more likely existence inside of a glass tube after they found ways to remove Gua'old. And was Earth really that safe? There were dozens of near apocalypses in the series alone and if I was unlucky I could simply be in a very similar parallel universe and everything works out completely different.

Staying a scribe? It might be nice to be away from all the action, but would I really survive the coming events on Chulak of all things? The first planet of the free Jaffa and the later made an example by the Ori? What else should I do? Take a shuttle and run? Go to some primitive world and try to hide, living for the rest of my life with the constant fear of someone sniffing me out? If I would simply continue flying, from planet to planet and never stopping, wouldn`t that be the same: running till I'm the last Goa'uld in this universe.

I laughed a bit bitterly: what about the nearly constant god-mode Gua'old self inserts in fanfiction had thrown on: creating my own empire with competent Jaffa, superior armors and weapons and totally new ship classes and weapons?

Creating my own empire from what? Simply conquering it? Good luck with getting the Jaffa to hold it, I doubted I could simply get troops from any other Lord as long as they do not trust or know me and even then: those would most likely be their levy troops and as long as they don't move together with their whole family, they wouldn't be any use in garrisoning a planet for a long time. Not to forget: every pocket empire would lead to larger neighbors noticing me and either annexing or bullying me into submission, while the Tok'ra might simply blow me up. Something which would also happen if I try to change the tactics and equipment of the Jaffa: they are not only conservative to the bone, but any changes which would disrupt the balance of powers would lead to someone coming down on me with a hammer…or the Tok'ra blowing me up because I'm bringing up too many new ideas. Not to forget: conquering is easy: governing is hard and everything I could rule immediately would be primitive agricultural planets with nearly no worth to me, as I would need a Jaffa world to get new troops and a factory complex, something only the strongest lords had, to produce anything valuable from the naquadah primitive planets could give me.

Which was also the crux when trying to improve weapon and naval technology: How? There simply wasn't a really big Gua'old R&D, of course ships improved over the last thousand years, but as long as no new cultures were annexed, there simply wasn't anything new coming up: only improvements only certain compounds. It even got worse: with virtually all of the industry automated, thanks to Ra's ban on teaching humans on Jaffa about technology, everything was simply the same and changing anything major was something no Gua'old in the present time really had experience with, if it wasn't about oversizing things slapping superweapons onto it.

So? Running: no good option. Staying: a terrible choice. Going all high and mighty with an own empire: unsustainable.

And no matter what: in ten years the whole galaxy is getting flooded with Ori soldiers too: even worse for hiding.

Lets simply say: I did not sleep that well this night.


	7. A New Age Begins

**A New Age Begins**

It had finally come to this:

My pride lay shattered before my feet and my mind was doing its best to ignore the situation I found myself in: my eyes firmly locked on the scrolls before me, while my voice continued on autopilot. Crying out loudly, carrying the words over the whole field before me I announced:

"The Khot'aa family!"

I did my best to wear a serious and grim face, even as I wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground right here and there: I had no other idea and now I was falling back onto the Mulan Disney movie. Laughing about the way my words even rolled of my lips like that of the imperial advisor in the movie, might have been something I would have loved to do. But I would doubt the hundreds of Jaffa gathered below me tent would have taken it in equally good humor and the way all the burning myrrh and incense was pushing tears into my eyes wasn't helping me to remain calm at all. The nearly nonstop murmuring and prying of the priestesses next to me was given me headaches and I knew for certain, that at least one of them was not only blessing the warriors and weapons in the name of Lord Apophis and Lord Zipacna, but also in my name. It was bad enough when they believed that praying to me would give them rain, protect their sheep or heal them from illnesses: all things they usually prayed for in private and then simply believed I would hear and maybe even help them: it was a terrible feeling. I had never taken a weapon into my hands outside of a few museum pieces in my human life and I was rather careful with the way I accessed my genetic memory: I wouldn't want to traumatize myself: as such I was not sure about how to feel when watching those warriors flock to this gathering place, ready to kill and be killed to honor their gods.

I looked down at the gathering of chainmail wearing Jaffa below me: there were hundreds of them waiting with their family since the early morning, their voices had been loud enough to wake me in the morning and even with the lack of windows my house hadn't been soundproof enough.

At least the wind wasn't turning into my direction: my chair and my scrolls were standing halfway up the hill, with the monopteros topping it and hiding my villa behind it, while large tripods were flanking it and burning with sacrificial offerings: the bones were cracking in the heat and darkening, while the flesh was being cooked and given out to the Jaffa as soup or shashlik. That I meanwhile had to sit nearly unmoving on my chair since the early morning, was not only annoying my divine tush a little, but also made me hungry thanks to me sitting right between all the fire places on which the flesh for the parish was cooked. Lateus, the smug old man meanwhile was nearly bursting from pride as he stood together with seven other Jaffa "veterans" or patriarchs, whatever you want to call them, holding up the banner for one of the eight maniple that had to be formed today.

"Surinoc of Khot'aa: with my I bring my son and three of my nephews."

The deep voice broke me out of my reverie and I gave the Jaffa before me a faint nod as I took him in: short black hair, a slightly darker tan and how could it be otherwise: trained muscles which carry the chainmail armor and the staff weapon in his hands easily. Age wise he could be somewhere between thirty to sixty, it was a bit tricky with Jaffa and his other looks let me at least guess that his family was one of those which had been native to Chulak before Apophis took over: unlike the more lighter or even darker skinned Jaffa which had immigrated to Chulak at a later date. Behind him stood three young men, all of them at least 19 or older, which meant they had succeeded or rather survived, whatever training tradition their family had to offer. Looking at their faces and then back at the list, I guessed:

"Anok your son, Riet' and Marif, sons of your late brother Hasior?"

My voice remained firm and carried only a light questioning note: omniscience sadly was one of the attributes that were given to my kind. Except from making questions rather awkward, as most Jaffa believed that it was only a test for them instead of being a honest and simple question, it also made me wonder what they would think of Earths equivalent of surveillance equipment, if the sparsely used Gua'old equipment had already served as foundation for that particular widespread believe. Surinor had taken the moment to bow and nod, answering for all of his wards, with a simple:

"Indeed, Lady Anai. For the Glory of Lord Apohis."

Waving him off with my hand, I leaned forward and put my chin on my hand, supporting my elbow on the table as I looked down at the milling mass… those four meanwhile went to the sides, joining one of the standard bearers: from their gesturing an old friend or comrade. I looked over to the next applicants, as they came closer to my table and bowed reverently, before stating their name and watching in awe as I used a Gua'old tablet device to fill their names into the army register. The only thing which stood out on them in comparison to those before was the way the chainmail and breastplate were hanging loose from the frame of the sons and nephews the more experienced Jaffa brought with him:

"Tia'ur district?",

I simply asked and the nodded profusely, voicing their joy at my knowledge of their home region. I honestly only remembered it, because their production was the lowest in my whole reach: in the last few years every drought, earth slide and storm seemed to had hit their fields whenever they came around and they were not far off from becoming social pariahs, because everyone presumed such events were to be interpreted as chastening from the gods. If it wouldn't be for the numerous tokens, trophies and items from other worlds that filled their hamlet and mesmerized especially the younger generations with tales of valor and glory. But while they were known as fearless warriors, as many other families too, there was a bit of a running joke: a friendly teasing which reached back as many centuries as the family was known by their neighbors. It was said that if the maniple ever was threatened by hunger, yearned for something to drink or someone wanted to bring back a token to impress his spouse or fiancée: one of the Catoc family would know where to find something on the march.

"May Lord Apophis watch over you and may Lord Zipacna lead you to victory.",

Intoning this formally usually did the job in getting the Jaffa away from my table again and towards the cooking pots and barbeque of the priestesses. Looking at their retreating backs I shook my head: the armor seemed totally medieval…but the half-plate over the chainmail is surprisingly resilient: shrugging off more primitive firearms and even gracing shots from a Ma'tok staff if one is lucky. Pairing this with the general lack of any decent kind of steel and metalworking's on most of the slave planets, the armors were not only intimidating, but also rather secure, as even the traditional enemies of chainmail -everything with a pointy, sharp end- didn't do much when their tip was made from sharpened stone or primitive alloys. The downside, at least for the Jaffa, was the cost of a single armor set: which was easily more than five times as costly as a staff weapon. As the half plate was usually after a battle either only chipped or completely blasted through by plasma this made a lot of the Lords reluctant to use too much of their resources to buy more sets and thus in turn lead to most of the armors currently arrayed before me having served in the family for generations. The chainmail was even better, for the thrifty Gua'old: it fits all sizes if one only uses a few straps to secure it and cleaning it of rust and such is terrible easy: one simply has to put it in a barrel with sand and roll it around long enough till all stain is sanded away.

The list of families which requested replacement for the armor or weapons was mercifully small: the short scroll I had prepared till now mostly dealing with boots, as each Jaffa would need at least two or three pairs of them and they were made from a mesh of fabric and alloy: protecting them against the more insidious rebels that loved to lay traps. That the clanking they made when walking was unnerving too was only a bonus. But elsewise everything was going quite neatly: Jaffa were flocking to the banners: gathering in groups around the standard bearers and those older patriarchs were keeping the numbers checked to prevent one formation to become bigger than needed.

The Jaffa's usual tendency to never desert in battle, but to switch sides quite often after suffering a defeat was quite similar to the attitude of mercenaries or samurai, but most importantly: it saved me from doing more paperwork! Either they died in service of their god, which would be carried home to their family by their comrades: most often with some heroic additions, or they recognized another god as the stronger one after an especially crushing defeat. In both cases it thankfully wasn`t one of the scribes worries to write down who died or deserted: it simply was noted how many of the original force returned and everyone else was noted under the label lost. A quite elegant way of keeping things to a minimum in the field and the Jaffa culture seemed to have adapted to no one really caring "in paper" if someone died or left: even in peaceful time there only was a counting of the population every few years to save work. That "lost" Jaffa return after a distant battle happened from time to time was most often either seen as a miracle from the grace of the gods or as an infiltration attempt by their new God: the last one was quite common but nothing anyone ever talked about. That mostly stemmed from the fact that Jaffa which became spies were either zealously loyal to their Lords or soon became filled with doubts as their worked continued to prove our claims of omniscience and omnipresence a lie.

Right now my presence at this ceremony was terrible boring enough: I watched the sun rising behind the village at the horizon, its zenith was reached just past the half of the muster and it was slowly sinking again as the last Jaffa were noted on the scrolls: with their numbers per family name of course. Finally finished I reached below the table and shook my wrist a little: writing with ink and feather was becoming quite taxing if you could use the pads for other things: but those were only a few in numbers so I had to finish my work with even more papyri. Dipping some sand onto the paper, I used the moment to stand up with a sigh; everything was finished and the Jaffa milled around in their maniples as a loud soaring sound could be heard from overhead.

A quick memo from my genetic memory already told me just what was approaching before I could spot it, but I soon found myself staring up at a hovering Tel'tak, which was turning to face with the nose towards the mansion, while it held its position above the parade ground before me. Some of the older Jaffa thankfully had an idea what was going on and they quickly let the maniples form up: each of them forming a twenty man broad and twenty-five men deep formation, before they went on their knee and inclined their heads. Only the Ma'Toks were set with their bottom against the ground and their tip pointed straight upwards giving the impression of a forest of 4000 sleek and deadly weapons. My memory supplied what I had to do next: my arms rose on my sides and I stepped up towards the large ash altar the priestesses had created through the door: it was large even if a bit small, but enough to be recognizable. Stepping forward and feeling my boots sink into the still warm ash I cried with my deeper and vibrating voice:

" **See! The Gifts of our Lord Apophis towards his loyal servant Lord Zipacna and to you! JAFFA! CREE!"**

At my last command their heads snapped up again and they watched at my form, illuminated in the setting sun with my purple cloak swaying lightly in the wind as on both sides of me transport rings started to come down from the Tel'tak. Four times they came down at the four specially build platforms on both sides of my position and four times they left again, but not without leaving something behind in the bright light of their transportation.

So if human weapons do resemble male reproductive organs and those do vaguely resemble symbionts…is this another human thing we have taken over? Uhh…bad mind…no back….

My eyes flicked to my sides and I took in the deadly contours of the strongest weapon Jaffa were allowed to handle: with their size and payload the staff cannons were the meaner and bigger brother of the Mo'Tak staffs and even those could tear head sized holes out of walls and effortlessly mow down trees with superheated plasma.

" **Se'ac of Tuska! Men'auc of Sadiz! Fea'c of Persior! Hemio'c of Versin! Step forward, for you have been chosen to wield this mighty weapons!"**

At least the genetic memory made things like this easy and stopped me from feeling utterly ridiculous, but at the same time wasn't I enjoying this whole shouting a bit too much? Most likely it was nothing, so I set up a sufficiently serious face and gave them each a sharp nod as I reached into a bag one of the servant girls I had gotten presented to me and pulled out four silver necklaces depicting the Symbol of Apophis on their pendant.

" **You will be responsible for these gifts Lord Apophis has bestowed upon this levy, you shall not leave them to the enemy while you still draw a breath: you shall sooner leave your weapons and armor than to leave them behind and you shall invoke his wrath onto his enemy with them."**

I didn't even notice myself getting louder but as I came to an end again they seemed sufficiently cowed down and each of them got the necklace put around his neck by me. It was only one more reminder of many: first and foremost they were the Jaffa belonging to Lord Apophis: Lord Zipacna might be able to command them, choose their officer or even demand their presence if his fiefs were in danger, but they were still more loyal to System Lord Apophis than to him. As such they being called when Lord Zipacna was not in mortal danger was officially a sign of him carrying out the orders of Lord Apophis himself and for that he would use the Jaffa gifted to him for such purposes: unofficially the levy would either be used to replace or bolster one of his own Jaffa Levy's from a fief belonging to him. In both ways they would help to spare the lives of his Jaffa for later use, like the following intrigues when new territory had been conquered and needed to be carved up between all people who had participated in that campaign.

Alas: for now I could only watch as they bowed and waved lightly, getting their sons or nephews to come closer to help them carry the staff cannons away after the last deed was done. An action which also involved me as I stepped towards the weapons on the tripods with two priestesses walking behind me and holding candles with sweet smelling wax. Once more I had to gesture my servant girl to come closer, the lack of pockets was annoying, before I could reach into it and pull out a seal, which worked as stamp and was as large as my palm: depicting the dancing piano's or whatever it was that Zipacna had chosen as his sign. Stepping to each of the tripod mounted weapons a time, I gestured for the priestesses to come closer, letting them pour the way onto cannon, before I pressed the seal against the wax finished the transfer of temporary ownership, which this ritual was all about.

 _"And here he comes…",_

I slowly muttered to myself as the ring transporter came down from the ship another time, but this time it deposited no artillery piece. Instead the dark shape forming in the bright light of it was starting to become humanoid and as it died down and the rings returned to their origin again an armored figure stepped from the platform.

 **"Jaffa! Cree!"**

This time it wasn`t my voice that echoed over the field, instead it was a harsher and sharped tone, the new arrival stepping up next to me as the Jaffa followed his every movement. The officer, as that was what he was: a Gua'old who served in command of Jaffa legions, reached out and took my forearm in greeting, giving it a squeeze until I winced, making him smirk as he declared magnanimously:

" **Scribe Anai, Lord Zipacna thanks you for rising the levy in this district, from here on I take charge of the eight Maniple and their cannons."**

Inclining my head and holding his armored forearm tightly, I intone in reply:

" **I'm honored by Lord Zipacna's praise, may he bring our Lord Apophis victories.",**

With a look down at the Jaffa I said louder:

" **May you all stand victorious over the foes that try to slight our Lord!"**

A loud cheer came from the gathered Jaffa and the officer who took them over allowed himself an arrogant smile at he looked at the warriors, which were now his….in a way at least. Letting go of my forearm, the officer, who did not even introduce himself before hand, turning towards the Jaffa:

" **Jaffa! Our Lords Brother, the mighty and valorous Ra! Greatest of all Gods was killed by cowardly traitors and betrayers! Now our Lord has to step forward and protect the faithful of his brothers…but why hasn't he done so yet? He has!**

 **But the envious Gods outside of his realm have decided to rob him of his just inheritance! Because of this we are being send out to get what's Lord Apophis right and we shall not be stopped by those, who try to rob it off him!**

 **Jaffa! We stand at the beginning of a new Age! Our Lord is ascending to take the Throne his brother has left behind and we who follow him will see treasures beyond our wildest dreams! Lord Apophis himself has declared that each of you, who will leave his mortal body on the field of honor, will have his soul moving into the afterlife under his protection and your families shall not be forgotten if you fall for our Great Lord!"**

It was only a primer for what was to come: for hour long monologues and spirit lifting sermons at the larger gatherings of the army, with constant reminders of the importance of the mission, their own bravery and the rewards that were promised to them in the afterlife, should they die in the name of their gods. That was how it had always been and it worked.

This truly was a new Age: one of strife and civil war, with consequences no one in the galaxy could imagine at this point: neither the Jaffa before me, or the Gua'old next to me, not even the Tok'ra with their spy network had any warning about what was coming and maybe even less of a notion had those, who lived on a little blue planet behind a gate address, that had been forgotten in time and whose nuclear fire had put the galaxy to the flame.

I'm so…

* * *

 **To my Readers** (to whom I would recommend looking over to the Spacebattles thread of this fic as the comments there might be interesting or at least lively~):

* * *

 **thunder18:** Sorry~ Kinda forgot the update it on this site.

 **Jack100:** My Beta-Readers to not usually hold very long...

 **OBSERVER01:** That`s life~


	8. A last peaceful spring

**A last peaceful spring...**

I did know that what people had coined as late roman decadence was nothing more than a derogatory idea the teachers and intellectuals of the late 19th century had come up with, while being high on national ideas and ideals. The large canvas full of orgy`s and feasts created by their orders were always there as a warning finger, pointing out what will happen if one becomes lax in public discipline and moral upstanding…the usual conservative things to be honest. But now I ask you: if you have the choice between hiking around in mud and rain or sitting in your own palanquin, carried by two muscled Jaffa, who have to carry you around the whole day from point A to point B…through said mud and rain, while you can relax in your own little curtained chamber, with a reading lamp and lots of reports for you to read through and fill out. At this point I was west of a little village in the eastern ranges of my district, inspecting the fields that were sowed out this spring and comparing my observations with the reports the local Goa'uld and trying to find out not if but where they tried to evade paying taxes. In the end it would not fall to me to get the taxes missing from the village somewhere behind the hill on my left, but my reports together with all others would find their way to Apophis palace archive and be then be added with the other reports from Zipacna`s territories and depending on the difference and the tension between those two Lords, the missing taxes will either be demanded to be paid or…forgotten as a favor between them. With a sigh I look out of my palanquin and look at the freshly turned and seeded field outside of it, watching my five assistants -Jaffa too young or too old to join the currently prepared campaign- under the lead of Lateus, who took care of the scrolls in his hand and also hold the staff, which was measuring the field in the feet size of….no surprise: Apophis own feet….

With a sigh I look down at my scrolls: till now we had five fields, that were nearly twice as large as they were on the papers I had gotten and the scribe working for Zipacna, had only laughed and smiled as I pointed that out politely, before shrugging and riding off again. Sinking back into my pillow, I looked down at my legs and was quite thankful for not having to ride: for a change the Gua'old perception of gender was useful for something…not that I couldn`t ride, I had enough ancestors who did do so at some point or another and my host…..grimacing I shook my head, better not try using her memories once more, it always left me feeling….greasy.

Reaching up I rubbed my temples, pulling my hood over my head once more and shoving my long hair underneath it, before it could slip into my view once more: after nearly burning off some tips when leaning over a candles some days ago, I`m far more careful with it. Lounging back as I only keep one eye on my assistants, I close my eyes and put the ink pot and feather aside, simply breathing slowly in and out as the light rain hits the curtain of the palanquin. My fingertips glide over the scroll and with a small flick I throw some sand over it, drying the ink before putting it aside once more. Tapping lightly on the wooden sides of the palanquin, I leaned outwards and called out:

"Lateus! How many feet?"

My voice carried out over the field and the grizzled Jaffa veteran, raised two full hands three times and then another hand plus one finger, making me nod as I scribble down: thirty-six feet. To be honest: the fields around here reminded me painfully of the towel sized fields in southern Germany and the tiny sized like the field before me were even thanks to the same source: by sharing the inheritance equally between all sons. The thirty-six feet wide field was a good example and belonged to the son of a family, which did not only have quite the amount of sons in each generation, but had seemed to be quite lucky when it came to the war campaigns with enough of them surviving to start sharing the inheritance with each generation. Their family was named Du'jian and was another reason for me to be here: they seemingly had troubles feeding their own family with only the fields in their possession and they hadn`t been chosen by the local scribe of Zipacna to join the campaign…well the sun was settling at the horizon and I gestured for Lateus to come back to me. Taking a last look at the field, the older Jaffa quickly moved back to me, bowing deeply as the assistants behind him started to gather the tools they had used: small stakes, which were hit into the floor and then connected with thick threads that had knots every foot to allow an easier measuring. Coming to my side he bowed deeply and said:

"Lady Anai, this was the last field on this side of the village, shall we return to your mansion for today?"

Thoughtfully looking at the field, I shake my head and then allow a small smile to grace my lips as I lean my elbow on the pillow and support my chin with my hand:

"No…I`m not in the mood to travel this far when it gets dark…why don`t we seek quarter in one of the houses of the village?"

Giving the words a teasing tone was just enough to make the older -you can`t really call Jaffa elderly before a truly Abrahamic age- Jaffa pale, darken and grow red all at once and on different patches of his face: the scares intersecting it thanks to the plasma wound he bore turned the whole process into quite the show. I sometimes did joke or tease him like that, but no one would ever think of this being some kind of friendly banter or a friendship: for one I was never really someone to make friends easily and a few hundred memories, containing chronic backstabbing by everyone around my snaky ancestors did make any kind of trust-building rather unlikely. Furthermore, I was a Goa'uld -no matter how much I loathed the fact when I was left alone with my thoughts and did my best to stop my host from having any- and he was a Jaffa, meaning that he wasn`t simply a subordinate or a colleague, but rather a follower in the religious sense: I was one of his gods and the goddess he prayed to at morning to make his work easier…which was indeed something I could do. For the rest? It was astonishing to see how…. utterly unchanged the working of the world and the perspective of religion truly was, when Goa'uld were not present: things happened because of a godly will in the world and prayers were not answered as punishment or because the Jaffa themselves were unworthy. This did remind someone quite badly of medieval Christianity with the relationship between god and mortal, but at least the presence of said gods stopped them from going overboard with the cult and tries of being seen worthy…except of course of the "god" in question also missed a few cups in his or her cupboard.

"As you wish Lady Anai."

Well it was a bit disappointing that his verbal reactions were always only this acknowledgments, at least his face was rather open for me to read and with a last not I gave him the sign to go…wherever Lateus goes when he`s not around me….theoretically I know he has a family but…when I walked out of my room in the middle of the night to get some water and nearly made the whole household panic, it was him who stood in the kitchen and was already filling a glass from the cistern and presenting it to me on a tablet…so while he most likely had a life outside of my service, I hadn`t seen it yet. With his heavy robe now facing me from behind, I reached up and pulled the curtain close once more: the brighter red cloth at least not being transparent: over all I had this palanquin to work in peace when travelling, not to appear mysterious whenever someone passed by me and saw my silhouette or something silly like that. As I rested my head on the feather filled pillow, I closed my eyes and smiled a bit: after all a nice side effect was the chance to take naps without anyone seeing or noticing it…after all no one would dare to open the curtains while I was not answering or giving them the approval for this.

But it wasn`t like sleeping was something I has as much need for as before. Without clocks being widespread through the Goa'uld fiefs and the measuring of time being left to machines fitting more into human antiquity than a modern space faring race -I do blame the lack of trains-, I could only guess that four to five hours a day were more than enough for me to stay in perfect state of body and mind. Me walking through the house in the morning has become something of an ever repeating horror for the modest staff that had to become used with me suddenly standing in their dorms and demanding some pudding.

Well: I can give up clocks and stiff time tables -the Goa'uld administration also works after the principle of "just in time" only because of slightly different reasons than one might think- , if I only get to keep some sweet deserts. Whichever ancient Goa'uld had the idea of taking some samples of sugarcane with them had my eternal gratitude and if I had to guess I would be sure it would be someone from Yu`s Pantheon. Chulak didn`t really have the needed tropical climate for the cultivation of sugarcane in its more populated parts and the little tin can at my table with the dark and brownish sugar was safely locked with an extra key: not that I would expect any of my staff to be suicidal enough to steal from my little stash.

Another scroll had seemingly found its way into my hands and I didn`t even need to concentrate as I started to fill it out: once more we had found out that nearly 1/12 of the total harvest might have been hide by sending false measurements in and the tax that would be evaded by it was not quite much, but enough to build another mansion like the one I was living in and this was only from my district: all in all it would surely accumulate quite well through the whole fief. Taking another far slenderer feather, I gave its tip a little lick before dipping it into my inkwell and then bringing it down on a new sheaf of parchment, starting to drawn the single hieroglyphs with quick brushes and a secure hand as I started to fill the top third of the parchment with my most respectful and revering wishes for the advisor that currently took care of the tax calculations and most likely drowned under mountains of parchment and had a grudge against all scribes sending them in festering in the depths of his chest. At least that seemed to happen quite often and as such it was only polite and wise to write down every last title and current position the aide had in the court and following this came a simple notice of me having finished the assessment of this year's harvest with the scrolls bearing the numbers firmly tugged away inside of a small sealed chest, that would be send right to Chulak -the capital- with the other reports from all over the planet. Looking down at my fingers, I pull of the small silver ring bearing the bird shaped sigil had chosen for myself and with my now free hand I take a small red strap and use it to close the scroll, finally using the wax of the small lamp hanging my left to seal it.

"Finished."

Nearly at the same time the word leaves my mouth my palanquin comes to a halt and I open the curtain lightly to see us standing before a large stone building, the façade looking at the street with two floors: only the second floor had windows: far above the street and with windows as small and thin, that they were closer to balistraria than anything else. The vines growing on the unplastered walls and the thick straw forming the roof did take some edge of the martial looks the farm had by showing its age and being a sign for the passing of time: houses that double as small fort were more common just after the change of ownership from Cronus to Apophis. Puling the curtain back fully, I step down and pull my cloak a bit tighter, the light rain that had started up on the way running over my face as I walk forward in measured steps and stop before the paneled front door, which was slightly taller than a Jaffa and wide enough for a wagon to enter and exit. As I walked up to it, my carriers and Lateus, who had followed nearly effortlessly behind them even in his age, behind me, I examined the gate a bit. The panels were already quite interesting, but if one looked at the walls flanking the gate, one could see small stone columns on either side. Together with the panels: around a dozen per door with small scenes showing the conquest of Chulak by Apophis of all things, the house was quite an interesting merge of different art styles and cultures the Goa'uld had seeded in their warrior class. But for now I had other things to do: traumatizing the person to answer the gate maybe? With a small smile I reached for the snake head doorknocker and soon my knocks were heard on the inside, as I picked up the sounds of heavy boots moving to the gate. The gate was opened ever so slightly and someone was looking through the gap to see who the visitor was. If the small stifled gasp was interpreted correctly, my appearance in the village as I passed through it this morning wasn`t forgotten and the only thing surprising even for me, was that the gasp came from somewhere around the height of my waist. Shifting my gaze downwards I looked at a twelve-year-old, whose feet were clad in far too large armored Jaffa boots. With my smile widening a little, I let my eyes glow bright gold and he gasps and nearly flinches…but he was well-bred, as he immediately fell to his knees and lowered his head, murmuring something along the lines of:

"Goddess….I…we….the Du'jian family…our welcomes….t-to you…Lady…Scribe…"

Taking the greeting in good humor, after all no one did expect their deity to knock on the front door without warning. I looked down at him with my face set into an impassive mask, akin to the classical ideal, which was still used by the Jaffa when creating statues…and by this formed their idea of just how a goddess should look like. I`m not sure if I got the archaic smile quite right, but it did seem to put him at ease a bit, as his shivering seemed to slowly cease as no divine punishment comes his way: no ranging storm that blew him away (Kara kesh), no Lightning's searing through his body (Zak'nik'tel), no divine retribution scrambling his mind (once more the Kara kesh, only in another mode) or simply imposing armored Jaffa pulling him aside to give him a spanking. The only imposing -if unarmored- and slightly unlegged Jaffa behind me was Lateus, the two palanquin carriers having been send away by me to get quarters with some distant relatives. Keeping my tone firm, I spoke to the boy once more:

" **I accept your welcome, guardian of the Du'jians gate…"**

The words booming across the courtyard as I had shifted it on once more, the boy once more paling and starting to shiver as soon as he heard it: but I hardly can appear anything less than divine when visiting Jaffa's…more or less officially. I`m not sure if I had been more direct, or if it simply was too much for a child at once, but only after an uncomfortable silence and a raised eyebrow from my side, the boy finally rose once more and quickly noticed what he had forgotten:

"I`m Var'tac son of Martuf and in the name of the Du'jian family I welcome you and…and…"

Barely stopping myself from cracking a smile or even downright laughing at the confused face he was making -clearly in over his head- I had to roll my eyes as Lateus leaned in and hissed in a try to get over this situation without more damage to my divine status:

"…and you are going to open the door."

Var'tac flinched lightly and quickly pulled on the large iron clasps on the inside, as the door swung inwards, my one legged assistant reaching out and pushing it open as I stepped in and gave the boy in his overly large boots a small nod:

" **Your family?"**

I asked curtly, his eyes widening a little as if he only now seemed to grasp my intend of going inside the house. With another small bow he moved backwards and without waiting long I strode into the courtyard: after all politeness when being a guest was something you only showed your peers: the ordinary Jaffa were far below the Goa'uld after all, just as far as the humans were below them: with some ranks and positions forming exceptions of course. The inner court looked more and more like a medieval – large stones covered in vines and straw roofs- building to be honest: just like the rest of Jaffa residents on Chulak it seemed to bear a rustic style with elements of other cultures mixed here and there. The sparse amount of doors in favor for curtains was also quite interesting, as the doors truly seemed to be used to keep the weather out, while curtains were as much as a status symbol, in their appearance, as they were a way to allow fresh air in and out.

"T-they are eating…my cousin has gotten a bride in a betrothal…my uncle has invited everyone here today…the Zi'viar family is here too and…we were at the temple this afternoon…"

Another perk: you did not have to worry about any brats except those, which are above you in the ranks of the realm, children had the survival instinct to be bearable when confronted with a Goa'uld…natural selection maybe? Still, seems like I at least wasn`t going to go hungry this evening, now in the courtyard the sounds of the celebration -drunken Jaffa can sing just as loud as they can shout when they are sober- was getting more obvious and with a single glance at Lateus, who was still behind me with a stony face of disapproval: most likely he thought I should have a more pompous welcoming, even if they had no way of knowing that I would come, I stepped towards the curtain from which flickering lights and songs were coming out from. The boy was also trailing behind us and as I pushed the curtain open I gave the room a small once over, after all who knew what will happen in a moment?

The room was sizable: 32 feet in its wide and 60 deep with a high roof hold by wooden pillars, which would allow two Jaffa to stand on another and then lazily reach out to touch the ceiling to if they ever attempted something like that. I was looking through the whole length of the hall: its walls adorned by tapestries and banners as proof and chronic of the families martial progress, most of them were by far older than the walls they were hanging from and as such another proof of the Du'jian being a family that had moved or been moved to Chulak after Apophis turned it into his capital. Just below the ceiling were some slits that let in desperately needed air and light: but with the sun already behind the horizon and the night starting lamps were hung up on the pillars and the cool air of the night seeped into the hall, hold at bay not only by the three dozen man, woman and children sitting or standing on long rows of benches and a long table, but also by a large flickering fire at the opposite end of the hall: the smoke rising lazily into the chimney. Thankfully chairs were the chosen furniture in this family and everyone was seated and looking towards the head of the table, were the four most important persons were sitting: in the middle was the young man or rather teenager, who was clad in his armor, with a staff weapon leaning against the back of his seat and holding the hand of the only slightly younger girl next to him. The girl was just as bedizened as her fiancée, dressed in a light violet dress and wearing a crown of flowers, as well as a multitude of jewelry, which ranged from three rings, to a necklace and two bracelets: gifts of the betrothal she now had to wear to show her new statues in life. That this was only the betrothal celebration was good to know, after all the weddings could range from the rather modest and heartfelt ceremony Bra`tac did in the series, to the more…adventurous ones, were the groom had to "kidnap" his bride from her family and she would then have to cut her hairs short and pose as a young boy until they reached his home…at which point both families would be waiting and starting to celebrate in earnest. Flanking the couple in any case, were their fathers, each sitting next to their future son or daughter-in-law.

Here and now everyone seemed to be in a celebrative mood, with the finest ceramic plates and cups having been brought out and set down before the guests, the painted scene of celebration on them a perfect mirror of the celebration happening around them. Celebration which came to a halt as my entrance was noticed. Stepping over the threshold without a worry in my eyes, I let my eyes flash once and the Jaffa quickly scrambled to their knees, some simply kneeling behind their tables and by thus also escaping my view as I remained standing just before the doorway. The singing and talking came to a stop as I waited patiently without a word, the little gate guard and Lateus standing on the right and left behind me as I smiled benevolently, the betrothed and their fathers rushing before me, only to fall on their knees. Their eyes were firmly directed at the ground and only then the oldest of them, white hair already touching his temples, said:

"We greet you Lady Anai in our humble household, you give us great honor with your sudden visit…we did not except…did not know…"

Letting my eyes glow golden once more, I silenced him effectively by this and instead walked to stand before the couple, reaching out and gently touching their shoulders, before saying:

" **Rise."**

Looking at one another with a faint trepidation, their stiffened and the young man of the Du'jian family replied as the form asked for it:

"Not before a Goddess of our Lords Pantheon."

Meeting his refusal with no change in mimic or tone, I repeat my words once more and reach down to lay my hands on their shoulders: not to help them up, but to show my favor for them and their performance.

" **Rise"**

With my voice booming through the room a second time the pair slowly came to their feet, their heads still lowered before they both rose to meet my gaze…for a moment before bowing lightly, the young man starting with stiff formality in voice…

"We greet and welcome you at our betrothal Lady Anai, your presence is..is…"

…which held for a moment until he started to stumble over his words, having taken a small peek at my impassive face and that was seemingly enough to throw him off, whatever he had learned to say. Only good, that his future voice shifted closer and took over the rest of the greeting: she did seem quite mature for her age…which was around 16? Maybe more, maybe less…the young man was a year or two older if I had to guess.

"…is a favorable sign for our union and we are honored for our families."

Giving them a tiny nod as only sign of approval, I reach into my sleeves, my fingers slipping two of the silver rings I had on my left hand -just for occasions like this to be honest, as I found them quite obstructing- off and then held out my hands with the palms, each bearing one ring, upwards to the pair. Their eyes seemed to widen for a moment before tentatively reaching out and taking them from my hands, quickly bowing once more as they voiced their thanks. Another thing I only answered with a mystical smile as this was the behavior one expected from a god coming to visit the mortals…well that or I would go overboard and sleep with half of the present visitors. I do prefer the smile.

" **The Parent`s should not kneel while the children are standing. I came here to find a quarter for the night and got to see a union that delights my hearth: your fields shall be as fertile as your daughter Ha'rek of the Zi'viar family, you shall need a whole new barn to store the harvest that will grace you today."**

The man stood up and both first paled and then brightened up at my "prophecy", which in truth was simply a prognosis based on the numbers in my scrolls -Ha'rek had gotten more fields to work on thanks to his hard work- and a little chat with the weathergirl in Chulak -a "Goddess" solely tasked with watching the instruments measuring and predicting the weather-, whose machines were quite wondrous in their complexity and sadly so underrated that only a few dozen examples of it exist through the galaxy if one is optimistic. While the welcoming committee kept me busy, the real forces of the household -the two wives of the fathers- were shifting the chairs around: putting the two seats of the fathers away from the head and to the end of the sides, while a new table was pushed in between the seats of the couple. With grace I "overlooked" it and started to move towards it as soon as the preparations were finished the couple trailing behind me and Lateus finding a seat right next to the grooms aunt, an old flame of his youth as I later got to know, but for now I found my seat and smiled into the round.

Slowly but surely the talking began anew and after I gestured encouragingly towards one man who had started and then stopped singing with a glance towards me, the festive atmosphere picked up once more with festive songs filling the air and only the occasional fearful glance at me. As it was everyone seemed to pick up on the role I was currently in, more or less subconsciously thanks to their upbringing and culture. As such no resentment was directed at me, neither from the parents who had to make place for me, nor from the couple which was now parted by me. Instead the mood seemed to grow even higher than before, after all a goddess gracing the betrothal with her presence could only be a good sign, or?

Then I found myself with a long knife in my hands and under the cheers of the family the roasts were carried in and the brothers of the girl set down the first before me, the rich smell of flesh and spices making me quite hungry myself. As the guest of honor, even eclipsing the fiancée`s at their own celebration, I was given the privilege to divide meat for everyone and as such I quickly cut into the still steaming beef, the lovely roasted crust cracking under the knife as I started to cut of pieces and spread them out onto the plates for everyone, the best pieces for me and the betrothed, before the next pieces were set out before the parents…then the uncles…cousins…and so on. With a genuine smile I watched the fresh bread and vegetables being brought to the table…

Well…this has been a nice idea and one always has to respect the local traditions. With a look around I leaned into my chair, letting go a little of my posture as I closed my eyes and then started to taste the dishes being brought before us…this might be even better than the horrible wasting at Zipacna`s palace.

Until the next morning at least~


	9. With Pen and Paper

**With Pen and Paper**

Do you remember how I talked about how great flying is? How you feel utter freedom as you glide over the planes of the plains below you?

Well, let me reword it: you only get to feel free and ecstatic when you are flying yourself, otherwise you are mostly beset by terrible boredom and the terrible stiffness in your legs, which in turn came from a quite glaring design error on the Tel`taks: they had no passenger seats. Should I ever get my own Tel`tak, something quite unlikely as ships with a hyper drive are generally too important (or rather too easy to escape with), to be given away to someone, who does not enjoy a lords complete trust or has to fulfil a task, which is completely necessary. At least that was the theory, in fact it was a rather arduous (and expensive) process of bribery and flattery needed to get a ship and a clearing to leave the airspace, but usually someone, who needs to go through this and does not have an own ship is deemed to unimportant to be a danger anyway.

Back to the start: Should I ever get a Tel`tak of my own I`m going to install seats inside of it: right now me and Lateus, as well as another Jaffa from a close village, who worked as my carrier and guard from time to time, were simply standing in the cargo hold of the ship, not speaking, not moving and simply staring at the different ornaments on the walls of the ships walls. Standing like this for hours wasn`t that terrible, especially with a symbiont in your body, but it was still stifling and it was not as if I could start chatting with my three companions, or pull out a scroll to continue with my work. I hard barely finished my mourning routine, before a Jaffa with the strange rocking chair symbol of Zipacna on his forehead was standing before my door and holding out an invitation by his Lord himself. With my reports sealed and on their way to Chulak, I did not have any excuse and had to follow the invitation one of the Lord Apophis most powerful vassals had extended to me and thus I found myself standing in this Tel`tak, which had set course for an island group in the southern hemisphere of Chulak, which was holding one of Zipacna`s summer palaces. Still….I had hoped a Tel`tak would be faster in the atmosphere, but we still had to fly for nearly an hour or two to reach the other side of the planet, even if most of the time was lost in the procedures regarding the takeoff and landing. Seeing a little movement to my left, I bit out sternly:

" **Don`t fidget."**

The rebuked youth stopped his movement and Var`tac from the Du`jian family, looked up to me, his face forming a grimace for a single moment, till he stiffened and tried to stand as impassive as possible as once more….which might be more and more motivated by the darkening shade of red Lateus was taking on behind me as he glared at the youth. With a sigh I leaned down and my hands stroke over the collar of his livery, the dark green leather making him appear even thinner as he squirmed in it and the stiff collar seemed to dig into his neck until I opened it a little and exposed the already reddened skin. I guess he had to be thankful that his family had given him a few normal clothes, when the morning after the betrothal came and they gave him into my custody, seemingly terribly pleased to have found an occupation for their youngest son, who seemed to have shown neither an aptitude for agriculture nor the most taxing personal training under one of the older masters…which might just end up with him ending up in a battle to death with his training partner. In the end it might be for the best, that I had -somewhere between cutting up to beef and waking up in most spacious guestroom they had (which was in truth the elders chambers)- taken him into my services as an aspiring scribe. On the other hand: he was now the single apprentice of Lateus and I honestly couldn`t be any more relieved to be his superior and goddess. The veteran might be a limb short and his face might be a mangled mess on one side, but his hits were strong enough to make me hear the boys cries in my office, then as it seems old Lateus might not be a good teacher, but a terrible good boxer and followed the thought of a student having his eyes on the back.

Looking forward towards the door parting us from the cockpit, I let out a sigh once more, how long will this take? Turning back to the youth I tilted my head to the side: Maybe I can show him how to fly? Being able to read and understanding a bit about ships would at least allow him to enter naval service and maybe he would end up either in the engine room or on the bride, both options that might allow him to life a bit saver, while at the same time having a high rate of…well defection in the face of enemy staff weapons, as people who can read and understand enough about our "magic" aren`t that easy to come by, while you do not have some kind of educational system. Shaking my head once more: after all a few years till he`s old enough might not be much to a Goa'uld with a live expectancy measured in centuries even without the use of a sarcophagi. That he might be part of the Jaffa rebellion in six years, when he turns of age -at least to my sentiments, of course it would only take three more for him to become of age in the eyes of his culture and family- was a once again frightening concept. Each and every memory I had access to were enwrought with a mentality of…of…eternity. The Rule of the Goa'uld was seemingly without a border in space (well maybe except of the mysterious Asgard) and no ending in time, as plots and plans could be made for decades in the future and baring some unfortunate happenings, the ones who thought up the plan would be there to oversee it and a whole generation of Jaffa might have been trained for this single purpose. I could not think in a decade long plan, not at all.

Hiding the shiver that run over my spine, I turn towards my companions and instruct them to wait as I head over to the front door, opening it and stepping into the cockpit, the single Jaffa pilot with his red eye piece looking up and bowing his head, before returning to flying. Slipping into the co-pilot seat next to him and looking over to the four sarcophagi like escape pods behind us, I shake my head and instead take the second red eyepiece, the sensor eye fitting quite easily after hooking its golden handles behind my left ear and soon my vision was half dominated by flowing charted and an ever chancing amount of symbols and numbers. The small red tint of the gem was a bit bothersome, but it did allow me to use a zoom function as we seemed to slowly reach our aim, the sensor enlarging the picture before me as we flew towards Zipacna`s private island, peeking out of the peaceful and blue sea.

It was breath taking view and the tall mountains, with the settlement nestled against its side and reaching down towards a busy and lively harbor, with dozens of ships in all sizes coming and leaving, did remind me quite a bit of Capri. The lower city seemed quite Greek, most likely a remnant from Cronos times on the planet and the whole place seemed to give out a wonderfully Mediterranean feeling, with its red tiled roofs and the wide and open promenades through the city. Sadly there was one point in which the city reminded me more of Rome, and that was the large central structure, seemingly crushed into the cityscape and totally at odds with the rest of the architecture and color, just like the Altare della Patria, which wasn`t nicknamed the Schreibmaschine or macchina da scrivere, the building Zipacna had rammed into the old cityscape seemed terribly ill at place.

The palace was stretched through the whole center of the city, reaching to the sea itself, with the further pyramid standing on a cliff above the seat itself. Zipacna`s origin as a maya god or demon, seemed rather clear with the precise layout of his palace, that was altogether different from the naturally grown cluster of the city around it, from above I could five massive step pyramids, made from some kind of grey or dark grey stone and covered in ornaments and clashing colors, which were connected by multileveled platforms, which in turn surrounded two courts, each easily as big as a football field. Even from above here the corbelled roofing of the pyramids was impressive and each of them either a palace or another room Zipacna would need, with smaller buildings grouped around them and housing the guards and store houses for his residence. As the Tel`tak swung its stubby nose around and started to loose altitude, the pilot heading for a space close to the harbor, on which other Tel`taks and Deathgliders seemed to be set down in loose lines, with long open spaces open for the latter to take off again. A glyph before him lit up and touching it with one hand, he spoke into it:

"Moriav, bringing the most industrious scribe and Lady Anai with me."

After a moment the glyph seemed to lit up once more and a hushed voice replied from the other side, a last and final kree, being heard before the glyph lost its light once more and the pilot lowered the Tel`tak to the ground, its nose turning until it fit perfectly into a line of four other ships of this class, all looking towards the palance of Zipacna and from the ground level the view was even more impressive than from the air.

"An adequate landing."

Was the most of a praise I could offer the pilot as I rose my chair and nodded at his bow, putting down the sensor eye as I stepped through the bulkhead and back into the cargo room. Stepping before my three companions once more, I gestured them to follow me as I opened the door leading out of the ship and strode out onto the airfield, the grass pressed down all around us and the equivalents of a Jaffa ground crew was sitting around not too far from us, only to jump on their feet as soon as they saw me and the respect with which the Jaffa behind me acted around me. Simply walking past them with my companions, who did cover at least three generations as I think about it, I head towards the gate leading out of the small wall that surrounded the field and was topped with two sentry towers and a few Jaffa, who were more milling around than really guarding anything.

We were further south than Dazai plains and did enjoy a far warmer climate, part of the reason why Zipacna did seemed to have chosen this island as the place, where his most luxurious temple on Chulak had to be built. As we stepped out of the spaceship complex, we walked right into the bustling life of the island: the presence of a Goa'uld Lord as rich and powerful as Zipacna did increase the local activities and increased the general standard of living, as many projects were done to improve and beautify the city. Of course they were never intended for the good of the Jaffa, that was merely a side effect, just like victory monuments in form of fountains did help with public hygiene. All in all, the people of Vivienne, as the Island was called after some goddess who once founded the city (and was most likely a vassal of either Zeus or Cronos if one can believe the tales), were cleaner and well-nourished than their counterparts in the north I had met so far, they clothing being a lighter tone of white and grey, using a thinner fabric than those in the north. Another thing, which quickly became apparent was their use to having their gods walk among them: it wasn`t like they were more any less reverent towards me than the Jaffa I had met so far, but they did the rituals and then were busy with their work once more. It wasn`t done disrespectfully, but they simply had to resume their work and did not gawk as much as the villages I had meet in the outer settlements so far: for them a god walking done the street happened every day and not every century like in the village, where I picked up my new ward.

Still, the market stands we went past were in a totally other league than the small weekend markets you had in the Dazai plains: even with the Stargate half a planet away, the amount of goods which were clearly not from Chulak and included things from foreign gold work, expensive furs or the gigantic bones of a large predator from a feral world at the edge of known space (or so the trader proclaimed loudly). All kind of people walked through the plaza`s that were built at the intersections of the street and I would guess that the population would be up to a hundred thousand people at least, with maybe a bit less of them being the steady and settled inhabitants and ten thousands of workers and artists living in the city for one project or another. Dark Grey and brown clad Jaffa from the colder areas, colorful and lightly clad artists performing tricks and plays on the street, traders hailing from Yu`s domains with an Asian influence on their features and clad in bright red and yellow robes and heavy hats. In between the steady presence of chainmail armored troops, who patrolled the streets with Mo`tak weapons over their shoulders and small bags with the silver coins Zipacna was striking himself, with his symbol on the backside and a Ha'tak on the other. Pulling into a small alcove next to a fountain, with the usual pedestrians leaving us our space as I looked at my entourage and reached for my belt, pulling out a small bag of coins I had taken from my private cassette before we left and gave it to the nameless Jaffa -whose name I hadn`t bothered to learn as he simply was one of the dozen, the village usually send with me when I was away-, pointing to the boy:

" **You are to find something to eat for you and him and then show him the market, we can`t have him imagining that the whole galaxy looks like his home village."**

That the warriors home didn`t look far different was unsaid, but from his looks he had already been on a campaign or two and wasn`t as star struck as Var'tac was, who was still busy gawking at every little thing, which he didn`t know from his home….which was frankly nearly everything. For a moment I considered warning them and ordering them to only eat in cookshops where they could watch the preparations of their meal with their very own eyes. But they were Jaffa, they were not likely to get any food poisoning that the symbiont wouldn`t throw off without them even noticing and as such they could go and try whatever they want as long as it wasn`t downright poison. Seeing the questioning look the Jaffa gave the boy and then me, I leaned forward and my eyes flashed golden as I hissed:

" **You dare to question me? Jaffa! Kree!"**

He flinched appropriately and moved backwards with a bow, his hand on the boys shoulder as I looked at them grimly and turned to Lateus, who was smirking lightly, supporting himself with a walking cane and leaning onto his wooden leg:

" **Lateus always has his knife with him, I will be safe enough."**

I could see the doubt in his eyes, but I only had to smile as I imagined what Lateus would do to whatever fool that would try mugging us of all things…not to forget that my symbiont didn`t really make me a slouch too and a knife was always at someone's belt….even if only to cut something. As the Jaffa and Va'tac moved away, I gestured Lateus to follow, the century old veteran surely bursting from pride and devotion right now: something that put me ill at ease but it was quite comforting to know, that I could ask anything of him and he would gladly do so, as long as it wasn`t something directly aimed against Apophis himself. Not that I had any delusions, if it came to the security of a one legged Jaffa and a simple Goa'uld scribe in Zipacna`s palace, should its owner decide that we were an obstacle. It had gnawed on me on the whole way to Vivienne: What reason might he have to invite me to his summer residence? Privately that is: I wasn`t to enter with one of the groups of supplicants that were let into the court regularly but instead had to use the eastern entrance closer to the sea and the guards over there would be informed to let me in. As we were invited I did not see much sense in drawing things out and accompanied by Lateus I moved towards the side of the palace that was closer to the sea, the large step pyramid marking the most eastern extension of the complex set nearly on the edge of the cliffs that rose high above the sea.

The market stands faded away as we came closer and closer to the palace, instead replaced by more spacious houses, home for the less powerful Goa'uld, which still had found a reason to life this close to the palace and the god living in it. Even here the signs of the old were existing next to the symbols Zipacna had brought with him, when he started to reign this region: the walls offered small alcoves for house shrines, which were done either with small columns framing them or with a single decorative column, on which offerings could be placed down to show allegiance to one superior or another. They were not only decorative, but also a nice identification mark if it came to one political purge or another, but right now they were another example for Zipacnas influence on this city: above the classical Greek elements of the shrines, where the Glyphs, signs and frescoes that belonged to the Maya art, that he had taken as his own style.

Clearing past the houses, we arrived at one of the elevated platforms and started to climb to stairs up to it with our heads hold high and our eyes as confident as possible, the guards simply looking in our way and as I came closer to the closed gate, I flashed my eyes once and raised my hand, showing the ring with my bird like sigil on it, before crying out once more:

" **Jaffa! Kree!"**

My voice booming over their lowered head as they opened the door and the dozen Jaffa that manned the ornately carved in walls, let us pass unmolested and with a respectful distance, even if we soon became aware of at least four shadows that were trailing behind us and slowly moved us deeper into the complex and closer towards the sea. Soon the breeze of salty water was filling the air and we moved between the tall walls, that were showing scenes of a…feast? I wasn`t sure enough but the kindly blocky figures on the stone were indulging in drinks, food and woman from what I could see, the highlights kindly marked in red against the more dominating green, grey or black. Entering another half enclosed area of sorts we were confronted with dozens of pools, a large pump installed in the middle of it and steadily pushing out more and more water. Walking over to it, I reached out and dipped my fingertips into the water, before bringing them up to my lips, grimacing slightly as I tasted the salt and swiped away once more.

"Scribe Anai."

Turning slowly -instead of spinning around and crying out in surprise as this would definitely not have befitted my station- I came face to face with a human servant, wearing one of the glittering leather jerkins Zipacna himself wore from time to time and also wearing some jewelry as signs of his elevated position: most likely his lo'taur, which was a bit worrying. After all sending a single simple servant to fetch me, might have been more appropriate, than sending ones emergency host into "danger" and to get a simply scribe.

" **Lo`taur…"**

Seeing me trail off, he bowed deeply and finished or rather answered my questioning words with:

"…Eadrich. I welcome you in Vivienne and the palace of my master Lady Anai. He himself is waiting at the northern pools."

Looking at the man for a last time, musing if he maybe was some kind of good luck charm to his master, I strode forward towards the direction he was indicating, having his bowed lightly and extended his arm towards the direction. Lateus was moving behind me, each step accompanied by the small click of his cane, until we went past another pair of pools and spotted two figure I knew…and he as well, or at least he seemed to do, as I sunk on his knees and prayed softly, not even stopping to give the human servant a glare, as he did not seem to match the reverence.

I for my part, forced a smile, which I was not feeling at all with the foreboding that particular duo evocated in me. Stepping closer, I performed a small half bow, greeting both of my superiors as I intoned lightly:

" **May our Lord Apophis watch over you, Greetings to you Lord Zipacna, favorite of our Lord and Greetings to you Lord Ata'suf."**

Seeing them both look silently at me, I continued and smiled pleasantly and servile:

" **I have followed your summon as quick as possible and stand here as you servant: what commands do you have for me?"**

The smile they gave each other wasn`t something comforting and I knew for sure that it wasn`t even completely fake, which made it especially unsettling as I knew, that those two would have no qualms to stab each other in the back, as soon as they seemed to get a higher gain from it, than they would get from working together. But on the other hand, that didn`t mean that those two did not honestly like each other in some way or another, but it was a simple fact that friendship was less important than power and influence. Still…having the local Lord and the highest ranking scribe on the planet both before me and seemingly in a "good" mood was a situation which did not bode well for a long ranking scribe as me. Ata'suf threw Zipacna an amused smile after my introduction and bowed lightly as the Lord himself turned to me with his hands on his back as he gave me a perfectly charming smile and said:

" **Lady Anai, how fortunate you could follow my summon…say: how do you like Vivienne?"**

Smugness seemed to drip from his word behind the friendly tone, after all it wasn`t as if I could ignore his summons, no matter how nicely worded they were, he was still leagues above me in rank and dejecting his summons might not only be an offence he might remember, but even if I could invoke important business for Lord Apophis, he might still bring it before the highest God himself and the ire I would feel would come from even further above me. Only bellowing my head, with not much else to do, I answered as praising as possible:

" **It`s a city of wonders and with a thriving populace, staring at awe at the monuments, which were build up in your glory Lord Zipacna, this island truly deserves to be called the jewel of the southern islands and your palace has completed the local cityscape in a way, which would hardly be possible with any other style."**

His smile seemingly grew wider and I wasn`t sure if that was because of the praise, or because he knew something I had no idea about and which was about to bite me in my divine rear. For now, he seemed to gesture to his side and I followed the motion towards a couple of seemingly new pools, their walls from freshly carved out stone and their water still clearer than the rest, allowing me to look inside and see…crabs? Dozens over dozens of crabs, which were swimming and crawling over one another.

" **Yes…my while pride, these five pools were finished only a few weeks ago and they are going to cost me all in all, up to a dozen weights to pay for them…well but I only do have to pay the craftsman after the harvest, after all they will have to finish the work on the rest of the pools first."**

My polite smile remained frozen on my face, as I looked up to him and slowly did the math…remembering the report in which I estimated the worth of the crops that would have been lost by the tax evasion at around thirteen weights, now him mentioning this could…hardly be a coincidence….but how did he know…

Ata'suf used this moment to walk over to the two of us, smiling just as pleasantly as if he was guessing my thoughts and said:

" **I was visiting the palace today, to prepare the last few supplies needed before Lord Zipacna`s troops can venture out to claim the territory that`s rightfully our Lords. It was here that I got the missive and report you had forwarded and it was quite an interesting read: how showing how widespread the corruption our ranks have become and how they won`t even stop when it comes to stealing from our Lord."**

The sad shake of his might have overdone it a little, but it said a lot about his abilities as actor, that the minister -or something similar in his function- of all scribes could say this with a straight face, with his tone matching his expression and seemingly expressing genuine shock and regret at the thought of someone stealing money from our lords taxes!

The solemn nod from Lord Zipacna himself didn`t make it much better as he said:

" **It grieves me terribly: how someone I entrusted with such an important post could use my trust in him to try enrichening himself on the cost of our Lord. I have taken the liberty of bringing him in."**

With a clap of his hands a pair of Jaffa exit a close entrance in the wall, between them walks a tall and dark haired Goa'uld, wearing those popular leather jerkins and loose pants, while being covered in little gimmicks and jewelry, before he bows low and he says:

" **My Lord you asked for me?"**

Zipacna struck a pose of righteous anger as he glared at the man and his eyes narrowed:

" **You dare to step before me? After you misused my trust to put aside funds from the taxes belonging to our lord? Tell me what you did with it: did you buy yourself even more useless glittering junk for your collection?"**

The scribe looked at his Lord dumbstruck, confusion etched on his face as he cried out:

" **My Lord: I only followed your commands truthfully…I do not understand why…."**

Zipacna`s eyes flashed angrily as he roared out:

" **You dare?!"**

His right hand rose and the Kara kesh came to life, starting to glow in a threatening orange and his face etched into a mask of anger, which truly befit his legends and belittled the usual genial personality he seemed to bear. Gathering in his palm with all its might, the Kara kesh finally unloaded itself in the direction of the poor scribe, the two Jaffa having left in anticipation of their lords anger and as it was funneled by the device, it formed a blast wave that pushed the other scribe of his feet and into the air, where he flailed around with his arms in midair. His airborne phase only lasted for a moment, in the next a loud splash could be heard as he landed in one of the new pools, a red tint starting to color the water and rising from his head. But he seemed to have survived the collision with the wall under the water, maybe cushioned by it and started to move around, trying to get out once more…but as his trembling hands slipped off the edge of the pool, he was meet by the sneering visage of his patron and Lord, who calmly raised a Mo`tak staff and spit out the plasma that seared through his face, burning right through it and turning his brain into so much vapor, the now nearly headless corpse falling backwards into the water…where it was slowly starting to be swarmed by the crabs, who sensed their new meal.

This could have been me.

Looking at those with wide eyes, I did my best not to shiver, but flinched as Zipacna closed the tip of the Mo`tak once more and gave it back to one of the Jaffa guarding them, his friendly smile once more back on his face and mirrored by Ata'suf, who praised:

" **A truly wonderful aim my lord, quite decisive and cleanly through his head."**

They were chatting as amicable as bevor, as if they hadn`t just killed someone and left his floating corpse in a pool to be eaten by crabs…I could see it right now! Once more this drove home how terribly…ruthless Goa'uld can be…not inhuman…but simply cold. Zipacna`s laughter and his reply didn`t make it much better as he said:

" **Well: I couldn`t let him endanger my crabs with his movements, he could have end up kicking one of them…and right now: well I don`t think their diet will be any worse with him in it. Quite disappointing….but he was one more into festivals and creating contacts, than being ready to be shot at…"**

I had a cold feeling as he looked at me at the second part of the sentence, Ata'suf nodding lightly as he also gave me a grin and said seemingly friendly:

" **Quite different from you Lady Anai….you haven`t visited a single festival since your arrival and you haven`t even had the time to visit your colleagues and the other scribes in your district from Lord Zipacna`s side. Your hardworking nature is appreciated."**

The dread in my belly seemed to gather into a ball as I tried to think about what they truly meant…obviously it had to do with contacts and…how I had strived to keep away from any contact with other Goa'uld, not fitting into the already existing networks and…not knowing what kind of underhand deals had already been made before I arrived. I could kick myself….I closed my eyes…now they were going to…

" **So when we talked about what or rather whom our campaign would need, we remembered your name and thought that a hardworking and straightforward individual as you…",**

Straightforward? They are now calling me dumb?

"… **might be just what the legion from your district might need to organize the supplies and logistics. As you are also unbloodied right now, a bit of experience on the march would help you perfectly to advance when you return home."**

If I return home…well, this was a surprisingly elegant way of them to get me out of the way, so maybe someone higher up was watching out for me and having me disappear wasn`t going to work? Still, with the smiling faces before me and the mocking lights in their eyes, I couldn`t do much more than bow and say softly:

" **Of course my lords, I`m thankful for this chance…I`m not going to disappoint."**

With a smile Zipacna put his hand on my shoulder and gave me a wide grin:

" **A woman after my own hearth: I can see you will make our Lord proud, quartermaster Anai. Before the moon of Chulak has risen to its full view once more our Legions will have embarked on their travels to the planet of Lylian. From there our campaign to secure our lords just heritage will begin."**

Looking at the two man I closed my eyes and gasped out in a faint attempt of humor, with my voice taking in a mad booming effect on its way out from my lips:

" **AND THEN WE TRY AND TAKE OVER THE GALAXY!** **"**

The laughter, which followed my declaration and the encouraging nods, only showed me one thing:

I was truly surrounded by madman.


	10. Adieu to nothing

**Adieu to nothing~**

Maybe I was still in shock?

That seemed to be the most feasibly explanation as I felt myself bowing and smiling, my words oozing with gratitude as my direct superior and the unofficial one, were both smirking me: as if daring me to try anything: after all what could I do? For now: simply accept the post they had gotten me graciously: after all they were not out to get me -elsewise I might be death already no matter the consequences- and right now I was simply grateful for being too unimportant to dispose of. Maybe they thought they would find my struggles amusing and even if I did come back: usually a Goa'ulds grudge could mature over a few centuries before something came out of it or the annoyances from today will be the anecdotes of tomorrow…. till one of the story tellers decides to stab the other in the back. Rumours say that Bastet and Kali tend to tell stories of each other's first centuries as rising gods, when they are in a particular good mood and dining together: taking great joys in describing what kind of plots and counter-plots both used in their tries to dispose of another. Recent rumours after Ra`s Death -even under Goa'uld- tell that both had their last confrontation, when they set up a summit conference between both of them, only to both bring a naquadah bomb with them and hide it under their part of the conference table.

The twist that came now, was that both of them swapped places with their Prime and met each other for the first time face to face in those disguises: quickly taking a liking to another and plotting to rescue the other and swear them in as their new Prime. When the time set on the bombs was running away, both fled into a Tel`tak and took to Orbit…only to find out, just who the other was in the moment they tried to recruit the other. Sufficient to say that it quickly devolved into a catfight -the famous claws of Bastet`s Guard also came to use- with Mo`tak against Mo`tak and staff blast coming after hits of clubs and hits. The whole situation changed once more, when the contingency plans of both Goa'uld came into effect: both of their fleets jumped in to bomb the summit…and ran right into another at knife-range. Trying to take control of the situation both fought over the communication system…and their Tel`tak soon found itself targeted by their more ambitious subordinates, who wanted to step up over their vaporized corpses. This situation sparked the alliance that held to this day: both of them forced to work together, as they gathered their forces and dismantled the rebels in both of their ranks in a cooperation, which run so smoothly, that some said this was destined to happen. In the aftermath of those loses both came under attack by their neighbours and stopping their feud allowed them to marshal their forces together and crush those, that went against the Duo, that was currently carving out a new empire in the former territory of Ra. From what I remember from the series, they would be quite successful in it.

With some bad luck, the Jaffa I was responsible for, would just end up facing them: not a good prospect in my opinion. Maybe I would be lucky and I would be taken for ransom instead of messily executed? Shuddering a bit at those thoughts, I stepped back into the lively streets of the city, Lateus barely keeping pace with me as I stopped and looked over to him:

" **Where did you send the boy and the Jaffa to?"**

I did not even bother keeping my voice down and while Lateus bowed quickly, some of the passing citizens either flinched and then did little bows of their own as they hurried past me and away from the possibility of divine wrath as quick as they could. The one legged Jaffa, simply pointed down the street and my guess seemed to have been correct: no way that he would let me send them off without giving them a few pointers where to buy and stay in this city without getting your money swindled by some merchant. He only added:

"The plaza of the ruby-red feather."

With a curt nod I headed out towards the now named destination, my expression set in a grimace of annoyance and anger, which together with my still golden glowing eyes were enough to dissuade people from getting in my way and they quickly parted before me as I stormed down the street with Lateus at my back. We passed through another street, with buildings reaching up to the fifth floor in some cases and windows letting in light on the second one and small rooms for market stands set into the first floor and open towards the street, lining it on both sides; with the vendors torn between reaching out to show me their wares or pulling back to remain unnoticed by me.

I ignored both kinds of them as I moved towards the plaza Lateus had indicated: an open paved square, whose middle was filled out by a round fountain, whose top as adorned by a life-like statue of a rooster, which was painted in bright colours and made out of marble, a single tail feather standing out with its bright red colour compared to the brown and green tones of the other feathers.

The air smelled sweet, with the aroma of honey and freshly baked dough lingering in the wind together with rasped almonds, which all in all was the trademark of the district knows for its bakeries and confectionaries. For a moment I slowed down, but then I saw Lateus slowly shifting his aim towards one of the bakeries on the left side and shifted accordingly: now walking in a more measured pace towards one of the shops, who had their lower floor open, with only a wooden counter parting the costumers from the vendor…and the large stone oven behind him, the neat stacks of wood next to it, responsible for one of the steadily smoking chimney`s far above the street. Finding my wayward ward and the Jaffa watcher wasn`t that hard: the young boy was standing behind the counter and spreading almonds over some kind of honey cake, his hands covered in flour and his clothes thankfully shielded by an apron, while a grandmotherly female Jaffa with already greying hair gathered in a braid was instructing him and slapping him lightly on his small hands, when he tried to sneak off an almond for himself. That does not surprise me in any way: after all I had to feet him since his family left Var`tac in my care and growing boys really seemed to have a black hole somewhere in their belly, as I had seen him sneaking in and out of the kitchen to get the left-overs from my staff: him now working in a bakery must be some sort of dream come true for the little sweet tooth.

Allowing myself a small smile, I toned my voice down once more, even if it might be too late already and half of the plaza was staring more or less obvious at my back to see if anything interesting might happen today or not. I might disappoint them, but I simply said:

"Var`tac, your clothes.",

Maybe my voice came a bit more sternly than I intended it to be, but the way he jumped up and looked to me like he had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, was amusing enough: even if I was truly curious of what he had done with his clothes: after all they were formal enough for him to fit into the upper class of the city should he be seen with me and that wasn`t really cheap to have bought and fitted for him. But right now he seemed to be wearing an older and slightly to large linen shirt under his apron, only the red marks on his neck hinting at his high collared vest, that had stiffly forced him to be upright before. At least the boy reacted quickly -how I presume Lateus had shown him- and performed a half bow towards me, the Jaffa who had accompanied him meanwhile snapping to attention and standing ramrod straight with the staff weapon in his hand, while the elderly Jaffa also bowed lightly. After this Var`tac gestured further into the shop and towards a chair, over which his shirt and vest were both laid out:

"I have set them aside before helping Jeliàr, wife of Pentheus.",

Turning to the female Jaffa he lowered his head while gesturing for me with one arm:

"The most benevolent Lady Anai, scribe of our victorious Lord Apophis.",

With him doing the introductions, I was only regarding first him and then her silently, her eyes not meeting mine, but instead looking to the ground, as it is proper for any Jaffa, when coming in contact with their gods. Our attention was suddenly captured as we heard heavy steps in the background and someone was stumbling down the ladder, which lead to the bakery and a moment later another already grey-haired Jaffa appeared before me: but this one with all limbs intact and only a long scar reaching over his left cheek towards his ear: his face is lighting up with a smile as he spotted Lateus and then quickly dropping as he saw me: instead making him put down the large bowl of dough he was carrying and bowing deeply before me, as he said:

"Lady Anai, your presence honours my humble store, I`m Pentheus: baker in this district: how can I be of service, ohh divine?"

More or less used or at least ill at ease with these signs of worship, I turned to Lateus and raised an eyebrow as I asked in my human voice:

"You know each other?"

This seemed to have been the right question as the baker straightened once more and walked over to the counter, meeting Lateus arm half way across of it: both of them clasping each other's forearms, as the man smiled at another, the wife of Pentheus only chuckled softly and bowed once more:

"Excuse them Lady Anai, both of them have been in same maniple back in their younger days: they grew up together in the same village and both of them have gone through enough together to turn them into brothers: if not in blood then through their shared hardships in their wars for our great Lord, may he once more prove himself victorious."

Casting her eyes down once more at the mention of their Supreme Lord, something quite interesting as this was Zipacna`s main residence on the planet, she put the cakes Var'tac had prepared to the side and just in time for her husband to return and bow once more after having let go of Lateus:

"Lady Anai, you honor my humble store with your presence, how can an old Jaffa be of service?"

Generally, I did not buy into the "old Jaffa" role some seemed to love slipping into: it had far too much of the wise and peasant cunning, roles like this exhibited in the wandering theatres or at the performances that were part of larger cult festivals and ceremonies. And when someone who was good friends, more than that, with Lateus, whose skull and mind had proved stubborn enough to take a glancing hit by a plasma bolt and still continue on after having part of his face molten…well: let`s see if I can let them slip out of this mask: isn`t the whole world a stage and all the men and woman merely players? When it came to the relations between the ones ruling and those ruled, then this was especially true…so: why shouldn`t I change the text, after all this day could hardly become worse:

"A room for me and my companions for the night: your store for my purchases. Fresh bread from yourself, steamed vegetables and fried fish for dinner. Lateus: you will accompany the lady of the house on the market and get the ingredients. Var`tac?"

Doing my best to ignore the slipping expression of politeness on Pentheus face, that was perfectly exchanged in the next moment with one of stupor and surprise as my short clipped commands were processed by his brains and went through years of experience and costumes, when it came to dealing with "my" kind, I turned towards the young boy who faced me just as surprised:

"You are going to help Pentheus with his store, letting Lateus accompany his wife, does not leave him anyone else to help."

Seeing his slightly dismayed expression as the more fun than serious baking of cakes was now leading towards hard work and helping the baker make real bread, I shook my head and said:

"Learn some diligence: and baking your own bread is something you should know and your mother surely tried to show you: be attentive and you may learn something."

Gesturing with one hand for the Jaffa that accompanied us, I turned to the baker once more:

"I`m going to leave him with you, but he`s my ward: I will decide when it`s needed to give him a few hits on the back to make him go faster: alas I want him back in the same condition I gave him to you."

Giving them each a small nod, showing that I did not except any opinions on my decisions and simply wanted them obeyed, I turned towards the Jaffa, whose name I still had not asked: anyway: as I left the bakery behind he followed me dutifully and took the place behind my back that Lateus had left open. Walking through the busy streets -this time making less of a scene, but still making the pedestrians hurry to the side as they saw me and my escort: rightfully concluding that I was someone important and staying out of my way promised a healthier future for them-, I headed towards the harbour: leaving the sweet smelling streets behind and once more pushing through the crowded streets, till the sound of hammers and boiling water filled the air.

On both sides of the street, "small" houses, which were up to three floors tall, stood wall on wall, with their ground floors being large workshops and smithies, which opened towards the street and sprawled out onto them with wooden stands showcasing their wares and little chairs and tables on which the craftsman themselves sat and worked on filigree jewels and broad axes with either the tiniest of hammers and little straws or iron tongs, which were needed to shape them with only the breath of their mouths. But all of this wasn`t something I was here for, even if I could have covered myself in jewellery and not even asked for something in return, so "glad" they would have been: either because they genuinely worshipped my kind, or because they hoped that I would remember their names and workshop and would show their products off to other Goa'uld or the richer merchants and veteran Jaffa. Without looking at any of them -as this would only motivate the others to be more annoying in their advertisement of their goods- I moved towards one of the stands, which had already caught my eyes:

" **Silver or Tin?"**

I asked the surprised craftsman as I took one of the silvery plates he showcased from the table before him and hold it up, knocking lightly against it to test the thickness of the metal, inspecting the ornaments only absently: some meander lining the edge, with a fighting scene between two Jaffa – their staff weapons used as melee weapons- adorning the bottom of the plate and lovingly engraved into the material. The Jaffa-Craftsman bowed quickly and answered:

"Tin, oh Divine: if you seek silver plates, I do ha-"

Rolling my eyes, this time no even minding if people saw me doing it or not, I interrupted him before he could go fully into his speech: most likely taking turns in flattering me or his goods. Putting the plate down again I simply stared him down: something quite easy if you can make your eyes flash golden and everyone opposite of you cowering down with this proof of your "divinity".

"Tin is more than enough. I need…a dozen plates with cutlery and the same amount of cups and three flasks made from tin for water or wine."

Another thought stopped me and I looked to the craftsman once more, with the question.

"How many other metals do you put into your tin? Lead in particular?"

Reaching down with trembling hands, the craftsman pulled out a small wooden box, most likely he had it just to answer questions like this and I glad, that he didn`t simply dump the correct amount of rocks into it, but instead had neatly ordered tiny orbs of metal laid out orderly: hundred in their number, I only raised an eyebrow as I took in what seemed like up to eighty or ninety of them being tin, while the rest were…copper? Maybe Lead? Well…it did seem to be fine: after all I would neither want to be poisoned nor did I want to have my new plates and flasks corrode because they were made only of tin and nothing else. Giving the craftsman a little nod, I moved to leave once more, saying:

"Bring the things to the house of Pentheus the baker, the palace will reimburse you for it."

Just as I wanted to go, he spoke up again with some distress, calling after me:

"But Mistress: what design do you wish for? You haven`t told me how you want them to be made."

Yes…commissions, the only reason we have art at this stage of civilization – too bad I had no time for this. Turning back to him I shake my head and call out:

"It does not matter, I only need all of them till the sun rises tomorrow morning."

Not minding him any further I continue to my next destination, the Jaffa still dutifully behind me as I leave the craftsman behind: either he would have the needed items in stock, or he would go out and ask his colleagues for some of their work to reach the needed numbers…in the worst case he would not sleep a bit this night and call in all his assistants to help him cast the plates and flasks I wanted. Anyway: it wasn`t my problem as long as he was able to get the things till tomorrow.

The walk to the large market close to the harbour of the city took us through a ring street, a respectable neighbourhood gathered around it: with the Jaffa who were full time warriors, or richer craftsman and even merchants -even if those had a rather bad image in a society, which was trapped in the drape of a warrior culture-. Nearly all of the citizens walking through these streets had some kind of symbol on their forehead, showing their status as part of a warrior elite…something that was quite obvious if one looked around and even in the richer part of the city: there were no people who were overweight or seemed as if they weren`t doing regular exercises. No matter what other job they were doing for most the time, they were warriors: every last one of them, some more openly than others, but from the lowliest peasant on his own farm to the richest artist, who was making gold and silver jewellery for his overlords and neighbours: each of them was trained in the use of weapons, even if the chance that they would ever have to use their skills more than twice or thrice in their lifetime had been quite low…till now at least.

Chulak was… no is one of the few true Jaffa worlds in the Galaxy and were his "brother" seemed to have liked the idea of surrounding himself with a lifeguard of humans, Apophis seemed to have gone to the other extreme: surrounding himself with a whole planet of Jaffa, where normal humans were a minority, which had arrived on the world either as temporary traders or as craftsman the Goa'uld…or lucky Jaffa had taken as prisoners to use their talents at home, letting them work for the profit of their masters. As such it wasn`t completely impossible to meet someone on the streets of this city, whose forehead wasn`t adorned by the symbol of one god or another, but it was rather hard if you weren`t in one of the districts were craftsman were living close to another with friends or rivals.

To be honest it was quite interesting, especially as I reached the next stop of my destination…or rather the one after it, but having taken a little shortcut I had arrived at the streets, where potters and painters were working next to one another: small and large ovens set before small houses and huts, that were generally quite plainer than the ones of the metal working craftsman I had seen before, but still nice enough to show their status as sought after artists…after all that was also the reason I was here.

Somewhere in the depths of what had once been a human, a sense of giddiness erupted as I looked around the workshops: the vases being set out to dry, the already burned ones standing and being varnished till their black and red colour was shining brightly in the sun above us. Was this the way the Kerameikos had looked like in the day of ancient Athen? Once more my arrival didn`t remain unnoticed and once more the craftsman pulled out their best pieces, showing them off to me as I walked past them: this time with far more interest than before, than looking at ornaments, pictures and then trying to put them into a time had been one of the disciplines, which were needed by every student…too bad this wasn`t really something practical on a market like this: of course regions were cultures did merge together were known on Earth and examine, but this was simply ridiculous.

There were not simply a few different forms and art styles on the vases: there were dozens and some of them completely different from the others, I could faintly compare some of them to Greek forms and art styles, but others were more oriental, while some seemed downright Egyptian and I could have sworn that one was an Etruscan bucchero vase. This were of course only the forms and styles, which were more or less distinguishable and could be counted towards a cultural group in particular: but the numbers of hybrid forms that were combining elements from one art style or another was simply dazzling and why was I even surprised? On Earth they might have been less common and geographically confined in most cases: but thanks to the Goa'uld and their meddling into their subjects culture, together with the transfer of their slaves from one world to another, without ever thinking about what might happen if two totally different people are suddenly living together on the same planet…each and every capital planet could or rather would sooner or later becoming a melting pot of cultures, even if one seemed dominant thanks to the preferences of their Goa'uld Lord.

I ended up looking down at a large ceramic vase with griffins at its handles, the fries showing a banquet scene, with drinking and talking figures on couches, with small tables bearing their meals and servant girls, dressed in nearly transparent clothes serving the guests and even a in the middle of each side: of course with a sign of Apophis on her forehead and while the guests were most likely Goa'uld, the male Jaffa were also shown: as grim guardians on the sides of each fries…even if one seemingly drunken god was offering wine to one of them.

This does say quite a bit about the Jaffa`s conception of their society with the Goa'uld on top – at least on Chulak, somewhere else humans might also have been on a similar fries- and maybe that was the reason I picked the crater up: something I had to do with both hands at its size and handed it to the Jaffa following me, who somehow was able to carry it and his staff weapon…giving the potter and what was most likely the painter behind him, a nod and simply watching them bow deeply I turned once more and started to head back the house of Pentheus.

The room I had been given was usually the one the baker himself had used together with his wife, as such the bed was far larger than the smaller examples I usually slept in and it was simply perfect for falling forward and into it. It might have taken a bit to get used to having either wool or real feathers stuffed into them, but the small prickling on my face, was totally worth it, if I could simply let myself let myself fall forward and face down onto the softness. The crater I bought before was standing on a table close to the window and the evening sun was reflected on it as a soft knocking could be heard on my door. Looking up I called out: **"You may enter."** And sat up straight, once more, quickly smothering the wrinkles in my dress with both hands.

Opening the door and entering stiffly was Lateus, who bowed before me as I gave him a small smile and offered the wooden chair to the left of me and like always he declined to sit in my presence…while I had to stop myself from fidgeting, because I was sitting down, while the older and only one legged Jaffa was standing before me on his crutch. As he did not say anything I simply regarded him calmly for another moment before saying:

" **You have bought the ingredients for this evenings meal, together with the lady of the house?"**

"I have", was his simply reply as he inclined his balding head:

"… **and from what I have seen in the store room you have also bought everything else that I might need for my travel?"**

"I have strived to do so.", he said simply…truthfully.

" **Salt, rice, pepper, almonds, a small bag of nuts and another one with dried fruits, together with rusk, dried meat and some dry biscuits…ohh and lets not forget the different kinds of wine you have bought me: at least four different kinds.",**

My hands were holding up a small wax tablet on which all the things were inscribed neatly and signed by Lateus and now also by me with my ring – as soon as this tablet found its way to the archives, the merchants would find themselves paid…most likely less than this list said but at least something if not even enough. Feeling over the smooth surface with my fingertips, I tapped against the six wine amphora`s, which were inscribed here: all of different vintages and prize ranges.

"The cheap for the march and the expensive one…",

Lateus said patiently…or servile: as it were the Goa'uld who were either patient or impatient with their subordinates and no the other way around.

"… **as my part of the officer evening table: I know. Lateus.",**

With a small wave I sighed once more: on the campaign or on board of a ship I couldn`t flee from the company of the other Goa'uld forever and the… well… proto-officer-club -if that was a name-, which met every evening was the most likely reason for me to meet them and with the wine I could at least offer something I could add to the table. Closing my eyes I opened them once more and said slowly to Lateus:

"Thank you."

His eyes widened a bit more once again and he stood straighter as pride filled him and you could watch his breast swell with it as he bowed deeply and intoned with a voice of dedication:

"I do life to serve."

Watching him for a moment, I looked down again with a small sigh, barely audible to even him as I closed my eyes and said slowly, even against all hope:

" **But you won`t continue serving me."**

I didn`t need to look up, I could see his posture stiffening once more and his pride leaving him only a little as he said slowly and haltingly:

"If you wish so, but my leg…and my age…."

Shaking my head I looked up once more and looked at him sternly, his eyes quickly breaking contact with mine as he lowered his head and I finished his words and thoughts for him:

"…do not make you suited for a campaign, I know. And Lord Apophis himself had signed the document that makes you the right hand of every scribe that supervises your home district."

I had seen the papers myself: scribes were changing every few years, some because they were caught hiding something, other because they looked too far into things -like me- and even others were moved towards other duties, because they had found a patron or someone else that would help them. Only Lateus remained on his position since decades: dutifully shuffling the papers from one side to another, all in the service of his lord, after all…

"Our most victorious lords wishes…"

He once more said without a hint of doubt in his voice, something one could admire…or loathe, I wasn`t so sure about either position yet.

"…are our commands. Still: I thank you Lateus, please go down and help with the meal, I will join you shortly."

After my command he nodded quickly and with another bow he moved backwards out of the door and left me alone….alone as I did something that was totally at odds with my genetic memories: reaching up I tried to brush the wetness of my eyes away but I could feel the salty water running over me cheeks, even as I let myself fall onto my bed and grabbed the pillow: pressing it against my face and stifling any sound I was making…I shouldn`t be surprised to see him stay behind…it had been stupid of me to presume anything else and a real Goa'uld wouldn`t have batted an eye at his behaviour: after all the Jaffa were expected to change masters quickly, even if their Supreme Lord staid the same…Lateus was never mine or specially devoted to me: I was simply a goddess and he was a faithful follower….he would serve just as well to the next god being send to that district…

It took me a few minutes but at the time when the fish was ready and I was informed of this, my eyes weren`t red anymore and I could present myself once again. I didn`t look more at Lateus than I had to do this evening and later I simply went back to my bed…or rather the bed I was given to: it was as much mine as anything else I owned…


	11. To Friendship!

**To Friendship!**

* * *

Thankfully someone had thought of putting benches into the storeroom of the Tel`tak this time around and so the trip from Zipacna`s residence back to our district was less awkward then the initial travel: all of us could sit and at least I could immerse myself into the reports of the legion of the Dazai plains I was getting attached to and by this evade looking at any of the other passengers. Lateus was still insistent on standing next to one of the columns that decorated and supported the interior, while Var`tac was sitting on a bench next to me, holding to a small bag in his lap, which was filled up to the brim with little dry cakes for the travel: the sign of Apophis stamped into their top. Compared to the more ornate and formal uses I had seen the symbol in so far, it was even quite funny to look at and my lips quirked upwards a little every time I saw at the little cakes…stamped with the sign of a System lord. Maybe I was simply trying to avoid thinking of other things, just like I was avoiding to look at Lateus and he was simply doing things the same as usual…as if nothing was going to change. Without me noticing my fingernails were pressing into the heel of my hands and my eyes were closing as I tried to banish the reality of the small room the Tel`tak offered us: still, cool and immobile – you didn`t even get to feel the motion: with the dampeners build into the ship, you would have felt more movement in a regular elevator. It was…stifling, the silence, the glances that were not exchanged and even Var`tac seemed to have gotten the mood, as he was silent and sitting still, totally unlike the first fly, on which he couldn`t stop scratching his formal clothes.

I couldn`t take it anymore: but did I have to? I knew I was not a Goddess; I knew that I wasn`t even human…but did they? No: The Jaffa worshiped me, the other Goa'uld looked at me as one of their own -which did at least mean that I was worth being taken care of in one way or another- and humans, should I ever meet them, would look at me just as awed as the Jaffa and without the proud warrior culture stiffening their backs. I wouldn`t go so far as to call it a revelation, but right now the façade of normalness that I had crafted for myself was being torn down and I could see the last weeks and months as what they had truly been: a way of hiding from my situation. I had only done the things that were expected of me, sated my own curiosity when it came to small questions of crafts and customs, pulled back into my house otherwise and evaded all contact that was offered to me from my "colleagues" outside of their request for my papers and documents. All in all: I had simply tried to life my life as "normal" as possible, even if nothing in my circumstances was particular normal. From an outside perspective this behaviour might have been weird, even more so from the perspective of my fellow -here I truly had to start thinking like this, no matter how distasteful their very beings were to me-, to whom socializing was just another way of showing their own superiority, most often by putting others into their place. Did I want to mingle with my "peers"? No. Did I have to? A clear yes was my own answer to my question.

My name was now Anai, I was a Goa'uld, around three months old and was not going to leave the planet I was born on…well at least the last part was something to look forward too: if I did already leave Chulak in my life, then it was at a point I did neither see nor notice anything in the pouch of a Jaffa. Now I was going to travel through the Galaxy, see new places and help to subjugate the local population…well the last part was a downer once more.

Without looking at the other three passengers, I stood up from my seat on the bench and walked forward, pulling back my hood and opened the door as I stepped into the cockpit to the surprise of the pilot.

"Jaffa, Kree."

I thundered with glowing eyes and echoing voice, my throat itching at the sound, but it wasn`t too distracting and the pilot wide eyes and quick half bow he tried to perform while seated, did at least show that it got the needed results. Taking a step forward with the door closing behind me automatically, I stared at the pilot and then pulled out a little scroll, that had been given to me by a servant this morning. Holding it out for him, I asked:

"Do you know where the "Lords fiery Ascend" is anchoring?"

The Jaffa looked at the words for a moment and then towards the red crystal eyepiece that covered his right eye, before nodding quickly:

"Yes, Lady Anai."

His shoulders betrayed some nervousness at my request: trembling ever so softly – most likely had he flown other gods dozens, maybe even hundreds of times and the number of them, who went into the cockpit and even spoke with him, might be measured with the fingers of one hand. Giving him another gaze, ordered:

"Set course for it, I shall take the Rings to arrive there, afterwards you are to deliver my servants to my home, where they will load in my belongings and then you will return it to me: understood?"

Nodding quickly, his hands go back to the orb that is used to control the ship and quickly pulled its dull nose upwards. The Tel`tak dove upwards into the orbit of Chulak, the communication system coming to live and terse voices interviewing the pilot, why he changed course and an even terse man quickly replied and with a glance backwards confirmed the decision in my name.

With this done I headed back into the cargo section of the vessel and regarded my three companions for a moment as they looked back at me, having no indication of what I had just ordered. Moving towards the rings I stand down on the circular spot between them and first of all looked at Lateus:

"I`m going to travel to the "Lords fiery Ascend" with the rings. I expect you to return home and get the belongings from my room, before sending them up to me. Your presence won`t be required any further. Your services are acknowledged and you have served well."

The elderly Jaffa sinks down to one knee and puts aside his crutches for this movement, bowing his head and intoning reverently:

"Then I`m released from your service and do so contently and with the hope of your approval. I live to serve and know no greater honour but to do so well."

The sad part as I looked down at him was…he really did mean this words. If you would put him into a ship and send him off towards another system and only tell him to return in a few years….well he would fit in just as well as Rip Van Winkle did after his sleep and proclaiming himself a loyal subject of the King…shaking off this heads, I looked back down at the scarred and wrinkle filled face, nodding lightly:

"Do this last service to me and you shall be released to serve my successor just as well as you have me. Go then Lateus the Scribe, bring Var`tac to where he belongs and send my items to the Ship."

It was…fortunate that the pilot chooses this moment to inform us, that our ship had reached appropriate distance and position in comparison to the "Lords fiery Ascend" -or Lofas as I grew to call it later- and the rings under me started to light up. The Tel`tak aligned with the Ha`tak far above us and our rings were routed towards one of the free entrance points to the ship. As they rose from the floor I could see Var`tacs astonished face and the awed expression of the guard: the rings were another proof of their gods might and power and before their eyes I was bathed in light. To be honest, that was a rather weird experience, not because I felt anything: except from the light and a small tingling all over me, the energy I was bathed in seemed harmless enough, but because I knew what was going to happen: that I would be disassembled and then exchanged with the space between the rings on the ship, at which point I would be…

"…reassembled.", I mutter out surprised as the cargo hold of the Tel`tak dissolves in white light and the next thing I know, is that I`m looking at far larger and more imposing walls: seemingly covered in gold and a multitude of signs and hieroglyphs…small pictograms set into frames that litter the wall. As the rings descend into the floor once more I looked around and find myself alone, the air cool and no guard in sight…the Ship is sleeping: It`s crew spread out inside of it or enjoying a last few days on a hospitable planet: why bother to set up guards outside of the Pel'tak above one of Apophis primary holdings? Stepping forward I reach out and let my hands trace over the gold of the wall, my eyes taking in the signs and reading them fluently: after all it was my mother tongue in some way.

"Thus our Lords ship was commissioned, ascending towards the stars it should travel in a fiery column, that turned the night into day and bleached the houses of the workers, even as they shied from the light..."

The songs came from my lips fluently and I quickly slipped into an appropriate hexameter, the measure of epics and their stories. As my eyes roamed over the wall, taking in what was the story of this vessel, starting with its commission…the expeditions it was part of…the roles the different captains and officers played on it….two thousand years of history looked back at me: just of a single vessel in a navy that had dozens of it, in a galaxy filled with thousands of them. What did I really want to do? When I had the sudden insight of what I had done…or rather: had not done, in the past few months, everything seemed more clear. But after the first rush was over I once more found myself alone, in a world that wasn`t my own, a body that didn`t belong to me and with the fate of a whole galaxy, depicted in my head. As I wandered out of the Ring-room and through the golden halls of the Ha'tak my eyes traced the signs that noted past victories, glorious conquest and the personal bravery of the commanders this vessel had…but my mind was at future battles, those that I had seen in my last life and which might now become reality.

Would Apophis really attack Earth with only two Ha'tak? Was there really a shadowy half-ascended Goa'uld lying in wait: plotting his return to Power? Where there really three other galaxies? One filled with little grey man and van Neumann machines, while the other was culled by Space Vampires and the last one dedicated to worshiping the worse kind of self-proclaimed gods…those which had not only the belief in themselves but also the power to back it up?

By all means I should be frightened, should be scared out of my wits and searching desperately for a way to ignore this mess even better than before. But to do so, would be to show weakness. You might say what you want above my species: but no Goa'uld would easily show fear: then to show it, would be to acknowledge it before your enemies and to do so, would be giving up.

You could see it every few feet if you moved through the ship and watched its history unfold: from the oldest events, that were chronicled around the rings and other edges of the Ships inner structure, to the current captain's deeds were immortalized on the walls of the Pel'tak: there were flat tablets set into the walls, made out of marble or bronze, with the Chevrons of a Stargate address, a date and a small description: each of them standing for a planet this ship had helped to subjugate. It was one more reminder of what the Goa'uld were and what they had become, after arising from the waters of their homeworld as lifeform, that would have been nearly unable to survive on its own without taking a host or preying on itself. Were the other Goa'uld more delusional for thinking that the body they were in, is really their own, compared to me who didn`t think of the face she saw in the mirror as her own?

"Who is the girl I see? Staring right back at me…why is my reflection someone I don`t know?"

I guess…my personal lows make me go back to the thing of easier times…better days. But what was my initial thought had been more clear…more easier to grab out of the clouds and bring down to my personal use: Goa'ulds don`t show fear. They are ruthless conquerors, strategists, that know all the little dirty tricks that you would regal others with at the table – to say it plainer: they had a racial identity of being victors. Even if the individual faiths might end otherwise…hadn`t they conquered a galaxy? Weren`t their ships flying through the void of space from one end of the milky way to the other? A Goa'uld might lose, but not The Goa'uld: it was a belief they shared together as species and which was mirrored by the individuals to some degree: you could endure and accept a defeat, but if you were cunning enough and survived for long enough, then you could still see your rival torn down and humiliated by defeat.

One thing that I had to come to term with and that had to accept was quite simple: I wasn`t a human any longer, no matter how hard I tried to think of myself otherwise and being a Goa'uld was influencing me quite worse than I had admitted to myself: or why else wasn`t I feeling the fear that I should have, not shaking in my shoes at the prospect of multiple threats that could destroy every living being in this galaxy? Why was I feeling this…excitement at the prospect?

"A little early to wander through the ship."

A voice suddenly proclaimed from behind me and my human lips were already opening to let out a gasp -totally not a scream- of surprise, but I was able to clamp down on it just in time to keep silent and straight as I schooled my face into a neutral expression, my eyes glowing slightly as I turned around and took a look at, who had sneaked up on me.

Another Goa'uld but…I wasn`t sure how to describe it more nicely, but he looked old and had a bit too much fat on his body: he didn`t seem bloated or sluggish, but compared to the rail thin boss of mine and the muscular and tanned Zipacna, he was…well at least a bit fatter. His outfit consisted out of bright and glittering robes made out of an orange fabric that tightened a little over his stomach, but elsewise fell down on his sides quite elegantly: even if it did look, like he did have it made at a prior point, before gaining all that additional weight…which actually was a feat for itself with being a Goa'uld: after all a fat Goa'uld might just end up as a slow and by this dead Goa'uld. Even more surprising was the greying hair over his temples and the wrinkles around his eyes that did not only show that was he laughing much, but also that he was letting age and decay show on his own exterior, something just as surprising in a species that ruled as "divine" and "eternal" gods.

Maybe it was that moment of hesitation that steel blue eyes noticed and he then came closer with a relaxed sway, his steps slow and steady, trying to imitate age and …gravitas? I wasn`t sure how to describe it, but I could only stare as he walked up to me and took my hand, bowing lightly and giving its back a kiss, before letting go and straightening again:

"Well, you are surprised. You are wandering around the ship fascinated and you haven`t yet tried to shout or shot me. You must be one of the freshly embodied once…but not so young that you are trying to stab me just for coming close. Let me guess…you are the scribe for the third of these legions we have to ferry around."

Pulling my hand back quickly and letting it slip down to the dagger in my belt, I looked at him crossly for a moment, listening before his lips quirked up in a crooked smile and I only gave a small cautious nod: showing fear was a taboo, but showing caution only showed your intelligence…

"Quartermaster Anai, attached to the Dazai Plains Legion, with eight maniples."

I answered more secure and my hand held up the scroll and Lord Apophis seal, which were proof of my new position. The other Goa'ulds look was more bemused as he looked down at it and then nodded more to himself than to me, crossing both arms before his chests and performing a half mocking bow:

"I`m honoured to make your acquaintance then: Naval-Quartermaster Fark Natas, of the "Lords fiery Ascend" and constant annoyance to our most vaunted Triarchus At'tak the Rock."

I stiffened a little and slowly imitated the bow he made, just much more serious: even if he was my equal in official authority on this ship, he was still the one, who regulated all of the ships requests and supplies and then gave them out to us: a rule simply done to save the scribes on planets and stations from dealing with the constantly changing faces of the scribes that accompany the legions. Or to put it more plainly: if that man decided to only give us dried bread and water for the rest of the travel, we couldn`t do much against it…except spacing him.

Chuckling softly as he saw me stiffen, Natas easily took the lead again as he stepped a bit too the side and ran his hands over a small gem set into the wall, laughing a little as she told with a whimsical tone:

"This is the inscription for when I came to this ship: more than two-hundred years ago…"

Just the time when Europe was busy fighting the coalition wars between the revolutionary France and…kinda everyone else that neighboured on them.

"…and what can I say: This ship was involved in sixty-eight campaign in that time and: I`m still here.",

He exclaimed with a laugh and patted himself on his own stomach, grinning from ear to ear, as I indulged him with a small smile and he reached out, offering me an arm:

"I`m quite sad to say that except from us, no one else of the command crew has arrived yet: so if you would indulge me in taking dinner with me, my sadness would be quickly lifted from me."

On one hand I was worry and no matter how charming or harmless he tried to appear: I knew better. Wasn`t this a good enough reason to take the invitation? After all I ended up on here because of me shying away from social events and if we truly were the only ones up here, this might at least proof more useful than sitting in my cabin alone for the whole evening and sighing to myself. With care I took the offered arm and nodded lightly as he aligned himself with me and we started to walk through the hallways of the ship, with him leading the way:

"You must have stepped on quite some toes to end up here."

Nearly stumbling I pressed our: "Pardon?", Natas simply waved one hand, as if it was nothing and give me another of those confident smiles:

"Well you are nearly a new-born from what I have seen: when did you get your host?" ,

Without even waiting for me to reply, he continued:

"And then you get trust out and into your first campaign right out of a comfortable job on the capital world? Usually it takes a few more months for the scribes on those posts to get restless and try to move on to more "glorious" tasks: so I would take an educated guess and presume that this transfer didn`t happen one your wish."

Saying the truth might weaken my position even more towards him, if he presumed that I had no one in a higher position backing me, as such I could only shrug noncommitting and say:

"I can`t say that this didn`t came as a surprise, but I did good work in my district and this might simply be another chance to use my talents to serve our Lord Apophis."

His loud laughter at my words, most likely showed how serious he took them, tugging lightly on my arm as he gasped out between laughs:

"If you truly believe that Anai…then you are one of the strangest newly embodied that I meet in the last decade or two."

Before I could reply to that…or ask why he was only talking of the last decade, we arrived at a room and if my guess was right, then we were on the back -orientated from the Pel'tak- and close to the cargo bays on the sides of the ships inner structure: it did made sense to have him close by to his work. As we stepped towards the door, it opened on its own and we stepped into a comfortably wide office: with a heavy chair set in the middle and book shelves, not unlike my own covering the walls except for another door. To this one, we were heading and as it opened I stepped into a luxurious cabin: one corner was holding a wide bed, covered in furs and silk, while the rest of the room was filled with a low table and a dozen vibrantly coloured pillows…which were already partly occupied.

Rising up to meet us were two women, whose clothes was quite…scantly: at least by the standards of the societies the Goa'uld choose their hosts from. Smiling broadly as he let go of my arm and walked towards this two beauties, Natas reaching out and grasping one hand in each of his own as he leaned in and gave both girls a kiss.

The one on his left was taller and more muscular, her skin glistening dark, like a vision of Vergils Andromeda, her hair was curly and her clothes airy and made out of fine silk, with jewels in all sizes and crafts, adorning her ears, neck, wrist and ankles…the lighter skinned brunette on the Goa'ulds other side was dressed similar, but in a vest and a tight set of pants that were just as emphasizing as the other woman's outfit.

"If I may introduce you to my two lovely muses that fill my life and cabin with light: Erato…"

The darker skinned woman -who might not have looked out of place on Chulak, except for her lack of a tattoo- bowed towards me with a respectful:

"It`s an honour to meet you mistress, we welcome you as our masters guest."

Said master let out a little chuckled and reached down to pat her back, allowing himself another smile as he continued:

"She has a clear strong voice and her verses help me to overcome the nights in which I can`t find any sleep: her play on the Cithara is just as precise as the measures of her poetry."

The woman smiled quite proudly at the praise and inclined her head, while the tanned brunette stepped forward to his other side and was also caressed by him in turn as he chuckled nearly ruefully and said:

"Yes…and my dear Euterpe: her voice is lovely and tender where it needs to be: her songs and verses filling me with warmth and letting me enjoy the sights of the past and the hopes of the future."

The second girl bowed deeply, each movement accompanied by the jingle of jewellery that adorned her legs and arms as she smiled at me and simple slipped back into the embrace of the other Goa'uld. The Naval Quartermaster in turn, simply kissed each of them on the cheek, before sending them along into the neighbouring room:

"Preparing something for the two of us to eat and bring in an Amphora of the sweet red wine we have gotten this week: no reason to save up on my new friend. Come one Anai: take a seat and don`t be worried, the girls are good at what they do: you should try out their almond cakes…I will tell you when we have the ingredients for them again."

As he continued to gesture for the pillows with that big smile of his, on his lips, I finally gave in and lowered myself onto one of them…and promptly sunk into its welcoming softness: the material truly leaving nothing to wish for as I sat up a bit straighter, still too wary to let my guard down completely around Natas, even as he heavily sat down opposite of me and simply continued to smile.

With a small glance at the door leading out of this room too and behind which the two human woman had disappeared, I turn back to face him and move my face into a pleasant smile as I say:

"Charming those two…at least it shows me that you did not invite me simply because of my looks or for the joy of having my presence. If so Naval Quartermaster Natas: what could I possibly help you with?"

His face bloomed up in a look of astonishment, and he quickly proclaimed, with his hand gestured around wildly to deny my guess:

"Help me with? Why my dear: expect to help you!"

Raising an eyebrow, I looked at him with the doubt quite visible in my eyes: after all you didn`t help another Goa'uld without gaining something yourself.

"Don`t look at me this doubtingly, I already have our route planned out and approved by the Triarchus. Our third stop before our target, while be a human world, where we will pick up the slaves needed to form a work force for us…don`t you tell me you wouldn`t wish to have my help with choosing, who to take with you."

I wasn`t sure if this was questioning my competence -somehow this being my first thought when talking about me taking part in enslaving humans, did worry me-but I quickly tried to gasp out:

"Why do you think I would…"

The Emphasis lied on "tried", as he interrupted me and made small shooing gestures with his hands, while his voice took on a slightly more patronizing tone as he looked down at me:

"Ohhh yes yes: you youngsters always think you already know everything. But honestly? How many types of human illnesses can you tell apart? Can you judge the dynamics of a village and more in the few days that the Triarchus will give you to choose your slaves? Well I do and I can get the Triarchius of your back for a few days longer".

That was…sounding helpful and might make my job easier…the other question would be, how much that would cost me when compared to what I get…and the consequences?

"How exactly do you plan to do that?",

At my suspicion filled question, he only laughed and dared to wink at me:

"Those are my trade secrets, maybe I will tell you after a few more campaigns together."

His voice had once more returned to its lightness, but I wasn`t going to agree to anything this easily: especially as he still had to name his price:

"Fine and Good…but something tells me, you wouldn`t do this out of the goodness of your heart."

Natas only smiled in reply with a "sincerely" surprised: "Truly?"

"Truly.", I replied with a firm nod and did keep my eyes on him, even as the two woman entered with each carrying a silver carafe filled with wine and a small plate with little sweets. Taking his time to take one of them and devour it with great pleasure as he wasn`t shy to show with praise for those two and a pat on his belly, he only then continued:

"Then I simply want to trade favours with you Anai: I shall help you with your duties and you shall help me with a hobby of mine."

I did not expect…the wording of this request and as such voiced (blurted) my confusion (out) quite quickly:

"A hobby?"

Nodding at my question, Natar reached upwards with both hands and pulled the two woman down on the pillows next to him, where they relaxed and allowed him to pet their hands lightly, before his hands slipped down to their wrists and began to explain:

"Yes, you see: my host was a jeweller at one point in his live and…"

…lifting up Euterpes wrist, he showcased the golden bracelet that was wrapped around it, with a large green gem set into it and smaller ones forming the image of a flower around the central piece…

"…upon taking him, I discovered my own love for jewellery: wonderfully cut gems and elegantly crafted jewellery."

My eyes went from the jewellery to him…then to the two woman…to him again…and I blinked once more as I had to admit, that I did not expect this. From his annoyed expression at least Natar seemed to have guessed the direction of my thoughts and:

"Ohhh yes: the youth, thinking that all pleasures are simply and bodily: I digress, in my age I love my companions for offering me meaningful conversation, for lightening my heart with their verses and soothing my poor belly with their snacks: Thank you.",

The thanks were accompanied by found pats as another of the snacks disappeared in his mouth and were chewed down slow and with much noises. Trying to get the conversation back on track -as watching him stuffing himself full didn`t really seem like a nice evening- I asked more directly:

"Impressive…but how can I help with this?"

Taking one of the cups and bringing it to his lips, he once more let me wait as he washed the rest of the cakes down his throat with wine and then grinned once more:

"Quite easy, I want you to get some of the jewels I will choose from the loot we will gather in this campaign for yourself and then give it to me."

Now this was…strange: wouldn`t he have first choices on everything anyway? It might not have been the best idea, but I did indeed ask it:

"Why don`t you take it on your own?"

His face was wrenched in pain and he dramatically sat up straighter in his pillow, his hands crossing over his chest, as he exclaimed with a distressed voice, that might have fit better into a operetta than any serious context:

"Because I have a terrible weakness: and that are my two muses, if the others would know how much I adore them and with what presents I cover them…."

Looking dryly at the theatre I simply said:

"That is not all."

His hands relaxed slightly, even as one of them remained on his chest: clutching the left side of his garment he explained patiently:

"You are a woman: the others won`t take twice if you take certain jewellery, while I could never wear them anyway and people might ask themselves what I have done with it otherwise."

Now…that would mean the other Goa'uld on-board wouldn`t know about how he dressed up two human slaves, as if they were fellow gods…more than that: gathering jewellery from all over the world and simply loving them and their company…with a sinking feeling I slowly said:

"So you don't usually show…"

My gesture towards the two muses was taken with a nod and the reply:

"Of course not, those simpletons presume I`m just as barbaric as them when it comes to my pleasures."

So…after getting more or less called stupid, I did at least now not count towards the "other simpletons": at least in the mind of someone, whose hobby it was to…how to compare it…to gift his hotel maids with designer jewellery and heirlooms.

"And you showed me…"

My question once more brought that smile on his lips to its fullest extend:

"Because you are different: you did read the verses, not only story didn`t you? You enjoyed them and not only the history of our victories?"

That was…wasn`t really sounding sound:

"Still: isn`t that a risk – me knowing about your two muses?"

He simply looked at me with a smile and replied with a calm and clear:

"No."

"How can you be so sure?"

My Question was fuelled more by the fear of me being this…transparent to others, but the weird glint in his eyes and the small movement of his hand should have told me everything:

"Because my two muses are my one and all, I would do anything to keep them safe…anything."

Looking down, I saw the hand device he had been hiding under his robes: clutched at his dramatic posing and now slipped onto his hand: aiming straight for me:

"I see…"

…there wasn`t much else to say and I forced a smile on my face, as I didn`t fancy ending up as a red stain on the wall behind me…

"…I agree and in regards to your weakness: I see no evil, I hear no evil and I speak no evil. "

As quickly as it had appeared the device disappeared in his robes once more and instead he lifted up his cup, forcing mine into my hands and pushing them against another:

"Wonderful! A toast: To friendship."

My smile was weaker and I might have been a bit pale: but it was better not to anger the madman with the alien killing device on his hand:

"To friendship."

Mirroring him I brought the cup up and tasted from the sweet wine…in fact a lovely vintage and as I once more relaxed in the evening the hours that followed, I once did ask him, where he did get it from. To my mortification he confessed that it was a present for the Tetriarchus from another Ship…only that it was destroyed a week ago and no one except from him, knew about the wine they had send. With a wink he said that he would trust me not to tell the Tetriarchus – knowing full well that I also had drunk from it and that the Ships captain might not be that merciful to some low ranking scribe….so I simply donned my smile once more and took another cup.

Why was I having this sinking feeling that this was typical for him?

* * *

 **To my Readers/Reviewers:**

 _ **Accursius:**_ Glad you liked the little snippet, my first reader said it was a bit cut out of the flow from the story, but thankfully my guess that people might find it interesting did work out~

 _ **OBSERVER01:**_ Thank you~


	12. Cui Bono?

**Cui Bono?**

The Ship had a bath.

And I`m not talking about a bathroom: I mean a real bath with multiple pools with warm or cold water and golden clad walls imitating arched architecture to give the room even more depth than it already had. Sinking back down into the water and immersing my hair under it for a moment as I hold my breath, it seemed I shouldn`t be surprised: Goa'uld's were creatures of comfort and a bath was not only comfortable, but also a luxury in an environment that lacked water for everyone else. Pushing my back through the surface of the water once more, I took a few calming breaths as I leaned up and steadied my head with one hand, closing my eyes as I tried to suppress the hammering headache raging in my head.

The evening with the resident Naval-Quartermaster Fark Natas had been enlightening, but if I could turn the time back for a few hours, I would try to stop myself from asking, why or rather how getting drunk worked as Goa'uld. It would be prudent to say that I wasn`t a fan of drinking before my surprising rebirth as an alien parasite and I still wasn`t really any good at holding the drinks…but at the same time Natas had shown a cheery excitement as soon as he had found out, that I hadn`t been drunk before yet and…well: it was hard to politely say no to some bottles he opened for that occasion and which were older than my grandfather in some cases. So we tried one vintage and then another, then one from a colder planet…one from a warmer planet, before finally topping that with some kind of rice spirit he got from the planet we are currently destined to travel to.

It`s enough to say, that I now know how to stop myself -my Goa'uld self that is- from cleansing the alcohol out of a hosts body as poison, which in and alone for itself has already been strange enough, but I also got to try out becoming sober again in a matter of minutes. That was quite possible, when trying to do so, but Natas was quite insistent that doing that right after the party would be a terrible waste of wine and after a look at bottles I did have to agree: even their crystal glass make, was more expensive than a small house on most worlds. As such the effect had been undiminished on me and my recall of the rest of the night was foggy…I`m quite sure than one of the Muses helped me back into my bed that night and that she stayed at my side during my sleep, till she helped me out of my bed, clothes and into the bath this morning.

Right now I simply leaned my head back and rested it against the border of the pool, soaking in the warm water as I reached to the side and pulled forward a little tablet one of the muses had left behind: a small collection of lotions and even soap spread out on it. Taking one of the small ceramic jars -better not to ask just where Fark finagled it from- I flicked the clasp on its top open and poured some of its content onto my palms, before starting to brush it over and into my hair. With a small sigh, I felt it clinging to the skin on my back; far longer than I had tended to keep it in my previous life and quite a bit longer than my host seemed to have preferred. Truthfully: it was getting annoyingly long and I had already played with the thought of cutting it shorter once or twice but…the black hair framing this strange face that looked back at me in the mirror, was one of the few features that were the same between my old and my new appearance.

Letting my hair go once again, I instead rubbed some of the lotion onto my shoulders and my lips tugged upwards ever so softly: if there was one good thing about this assignment, it would be the lack of weather inside of the carefully balanced ecosphere that made the ship habitable. Actually: I wouldn`t call it "carefully" balanced, after all: the water system of a Ha`tak wasn`t built to be as effective as possible – it also had to factor in the social standing of the crew and passengers- instead the distribution and re-using of the water was favouring the Goa'uld in the centre of the ship. Looking back -something that can take quite a while with a Goa'ulds memory- it`s actually quite surprising that the ship design of my race are truly our own design, even if derived from the Ancients.

Ducking down and submerging my head under the water once more, I relaxed as I got to enjoy the warmth surrounding me and let my thoughts wander once more: just how far was the Ha`tak a representation of Goa'uld society in miniature?

In the inhabited golden tetrahedron that was the core of the vessel, the whole hierarchy of the Goa'uld society was represented: In the middle of it was the Pel`tak –the Bridge- with the ornamented throne of the trierarchus and the console that was able to steer the ship: the court and centre of its life. Above it -in the tip of the Pyramid- were the quarters of the Ships captain and his officers, lifted -even geographically- over the rest of the crew, just like a Lord and his Lieutenants would be on a planet. Below them were the quarters I and the other Goa'uld, who were here as passengers and guests would be using, but this could also vary as being given a room above the bridge`s floor would show your importance (or the favour of the captain), while being given a room on the same floor as the guests, would be a slight towards a Goa'uld officer of the ship – most likely the reason why Fark was all alone a few doors further on this level.

Also in the centre of the pyramid and the furthest away from the exterior hull as possible, was the engine room and for the most part everyone was content with ignoring it and its contents: automatization was great, or?

Shielding the vital parts -and the people who thought themselves vital- to the functioning of the ship, were the barracks and quarters of the Jaffa -which also served as last ditch armour- and formed a clear boundary outwards, only broken by different hallways leading inwards and the ring systems that littered the body of the ship. The rest of the ship was divided between the bays for the different vessels a Ha'tak could transport in itself and the large cargo bays, in which good and humans were transported. Whatever space remained was filled with dozens of other functions, some tending to be more mundane like kitchens and armouries, while others formed the arcane net of subsystems and secondary control stations that were to be used in the case of an emergency or battle.

As I said: an Ha'tak, can be seen as a miniature social system, one that was shaped akin to the palace culture on planets and reinforcing itself thanks to the way it's build up. A typical phenomenon in Goa'uld society and one of those he hardest to break if I should eventually strife to do so...will I?

Childishly leaning down and pursing my lips before blowing some air into the water to create small little bubbles, I let out a small chuckle but stopped immediately as I heard the door opening behind me. Stiffening a little and leaning further into the water: submerging everything beneath my shoulders in the warm bath -it might not have been my body to begin with, but I sure wouldn't just let everyone peek at it, no matter how fashionable metal bikinis and silk currently are for female Goa'uld close to Apophis-. Gesturing towards the edge of the bath with one wet hand, showering the stone with small droplets of water, I said with controlled calmness to whichever of the muses had entered:

"Please put it down here...", whatever she was carrying, maybe a towel? "...I will call you, when I have finished my bath and am in need of your services. "

Thinking, that I had successfully send her out, before she could "help" me or do whatever Fark wanted her to do with me, as a trick for his own amusement. A small glace into my memory had shown: with both of us on the ship and me responsible for the supplies of the legion, I could strife to be his equal. Too bad, that this would involve trying to go over him at whatever chance possible to get better deals in a bid to marginalise his influence. With his centuries of experience, that didn't seem like something I could off, especially with him knowing all the suppliers in the territory of Apophis, as long as they had been on their positions for a decade or two. Warm water did seem to make me whimsy, but as long as his way of showing his superior station to me didn't escalate past a few pranks? I would simply think of myself as lucky for heaving a superior, whose tendency for backstabbing was appeased by a few practical pranks. In hindsight I'm quite sure that leading me through the process of enabling myself to be intoxicated was simply one of them.

Faintly aware, that the door hadn't opened and closed more again, I shifted lightly and pushed myself upwards to look behind me, even ad I began to speak with some annoyance:

"Haven't you heard me? Why are you still..."

My words died in my throat as I looked at the person who had brought me the towels -at least that part of my assumptions were right- the small and darkly tanned face of Var'tac was looking back at me, a slight flush visible at the little openings his stiff collar left and my ward was doing his best to look as calmly at me as possible. Which in turn only drove home, that I was standing with only some water clinging to my skin...and quickly lowered myself into the pool once more, giving him a small glare and hissing with golden eyes:

"What are you doing here? Hasn't Lateus send you home yesterday?"

The boy flinched slightly, clutching the small basket, he was carrying in his arms tightly and shook his head quickly, as he lowered it and replied:

"He did not Lady Anai…he contacted my parents and told them, that I was to accompany you on your travel: after all my place as your ward would be at your side…and as you didn`t call for any of your other servants at least I should follow you."

My mood, after having just improved thanks to the soothing bath, was plummeting once more at the mention of Lateus: I wasn`t going to dissolve into tears once more, but I was still forming fists with my hands as I thought of him. Was I supposed to be thankful for him sending Var'tac with me, or should I be angry as he deemed be servantless enough to send the boy, but not enough to follow me himself. But what the boy said sounded perfectly right for the way Lateus would see things...it wouldn't be fair to hold this against him... Fair: hah!

"Go to my room and wait there for me."

I commanded curtly and the young Jaffa quickly bowed before hurrying out of the room, leaving me to pushing myself out of the warm water and wrapping the towel around me. As I started to dry myself -and I have to say you only start to miss your fluffy towel, when you don't have it anymore- my eyes darted to the "bathrobe" laid out for me. I was always someone more inclined to showering than bathing, but as that didn't seem opulent enough for the Goa'uld -you can't make a massive golden shower after all- I did have to bath to clean myself and with that came the need to wear a bathrobe. I really should have taken the seamstress with me, even if you shouldn't bring more than two servants onboard. With a sigh I grasped the offending clothing peace and wrapped it around myself, the cloth snugly fitting and light enough to make me feel as if I wasn't wearing anything, to bad this also came with the fabric being in a soft nearly transparent blue that showcased your body instead of hiding it... Just how much of Goa'uld fashion was styled like this should make you guess a thing or two in regards to their view of or rather on their bodies.

Still; some robes were better than no clothes and were easily bound around my waist with a belt from the same material, before I started to head out of the bathroom. As the door towards the hallway opened, I was glad that shivering was one of the bodily functions a symbiont had no problem suppressing, the cool temperature of the hallway would have left me a less than divine image otherwise. Turning left towards my quarters I nearly ran into Var'tac, whose hands were still clinging to the basket as he looked around nervously: who wouldn't? At his age a Jaffa usually hadn't seen much more than the surrounsinf villages and maybe the central place in their region, but here he was: having travelled half across his homeplanet and now he was hovering above it, on the first step of a journey that would take him far away from his family and home. I had to remind myself: Goa'uld don't hug.

But they grab hair, so I slightly lend forward to ruffle through his hair, smirking at his perplexed expression, I quickly schooled my features again and gestured down the hallway, starting to walk as soon as he gave me a nod of understanding. At least I was alone right now, not only is unisex a good way to describe the Goa'uld take on dedicated sanitary rooms, but I also wasn't sure if I had been able to master the art of walking around majestetically in nothing more than a bathrobe and on bare soles.

"Are you afraid?"

The question made the boys face scrunch up for a moment...at least till he schooled his face into a brave expression once more and shook his head, replying simply:

"A Jaffa does not know fear."

An adorable sentiment, so utterly wrong and right at the same time. But subjecting young boys to Socrates usually didn't help much, so I simply continued on to my quarters, the door opening as we stepped closer and letting us in. Compared to my quarters on the planet, it was smaller, but on a space going vessel which only had so much space it was one of the respectable ones. A large bed, with a wooden block to put under your head when resting, and my own pillow on top of it were filling most of the room, whose bright golden walls were already starting to hurt my eyes, while a table for me to worn on and a few racks for scrolls were taking the rest of the place available. Var'tac was already moving to the back, were a slimmer door opened to a closet, in which not only my luggage and clothing were stored, but also a small bed for a servant or in this case: my ward. With his back turned towards me, I unceremoniously dropped onto the mattress as I didn't need to keep up appearances for him anymore...not that I did have much time to do so anyway. The reason for this was lying on the table: sparkling with gold on its Sigel, the scroll pompously announced the upcoming arrival of Lord Tihrak, chosen commander of the Tihrak Legion -a number system was deemed too lifeless, a name after region was hard as some legions put up multiple legions and naming the unit you are commanding after yourself was totally in line with the usual Goa`uld flattered of themselves-, Warden of Keassor and victor of Al`ein; at least those were the highlights.

The sounds coming from the neighbouring room were telling that the boy was busy unlocking and opening the few chests that carried my belongings and gathering one of the outfits or rather costumes that I had to wear. Pushing some of the damp hair behind my ear, I rolled over before swinging myself out of the bed once more, leaving its comfort behind as I stepped towards my working place and rolled a few scrolls open, staring at the numbers:

"Four thousand Jaffa, eight Maniples and one room for each of them, washing rooms and other facilities are grouped per maniple and four supply stations are spread out in the lower Area between them; each of them responsible for two of the room complexes and interconnected with rings towards the central depot, which in turn has its own central position, with minor rooms grouped around it to hold different kind of spoilable foodstuff, food stock etc."

Normally a legion like this wouldn`t have been recruited right of the same area and be put under one commander's orders, who would then choose his cronies to take command of the smaller formations. Splitting the Maniples each into a room and sharing minor supply depots between two of them was usually made to make it easier to hold apart which supplies went into which direction and into whose pocket. But when a legion was truly unified, it made the whole thing a minor pain for the one organizing all of it…and as I was the one responsible for it, it fell on me to count and guess just how much grain and flesh we would need per day, per room and per Jaffa (so one could later simply calculate what the daily need was, by taking this number per the number of living Jaffa). Farmers with iron tools would grew the grain, which would be taken upwards onto our ship by freighters or ring-teleporters, before strong muscled Jaffa carried the grain off into depots and each morning they had to use hand driven mills to get the grain small enough to make a porridge or paste out of it. Jaffa were thankfully rather hard to poison and after a small inspection of the supplies we had already been given, I was quite sure that the pure variety of cheese the ship had stored, would have seriously hampered any human army thanks to the different ways they were made and matured.

On a ship the meals were the dreariest ones: at least for Jaffa: you could neither warm them as a fire would put unnecessary strain on the life-systems -expectations could of course be made if one of us ever got the fancy of a barbecue party- nor was much living livestock available as no one wanted to deal with the pure amount of shit a herd or two could put out. Meanwhile I had a fridge somewhere in the depot reserved just for me -or so Fark had told me- and could store whatever exotic things I found on a planet to either eat it myself, trade it to one of the other officers or use it to bribe someone whose good will would be important to me.

With each day's ration being roughly a little less than a kilogram, or three bronze weights of Ra, of grain with additional things added depending on our overall situation and the last planet we visited, we would need 12.000 Bronze weights of grain per day, which would mean 720.000 weights for two months, with at least half the number being used for the amount of two thousand slaves we were planning to take along for various purposes. Outside of the ship, smaller vessels were flying up and down or simply forming a line of ring transports, that allowed to quickly shift the grain up and down, while modified Al`kesh were being flown towards our hull and docked with the ships own silo`s, pumping the grain inside of them, while other Jaffa had to somehow secure the hundreds of amphora of cheap wine that resembled vinegar more closely than anything else. Thankfully this all fell under Fark`s administrative chores and this left me with a pleasant little trip downstairs to inspect the arrangements that had been made for the Jaffa that were going to have to bunk in this ship for at least a week or two.

Putting my scrolls to the side once more -together with the list that said how many foodstuffs would have to be given to the different supplies for each day and who was going to be supposed to get them from the depot and of course who was responsible for checking that everything was arriving downstairs and nothing disappeared on the way to our warrior- I turned to see Var`tac returning with my clothes, spreading them out on the bed and making sure that none of them was going to get wrinkles, while spreading some scented water onto them and then bowing towards me, before standing next to it with his hands in his lap and a making a rather good impression of my last assistant…curse him and that blasted planet. With a sigh I moved over to the bed and then looked at the boy, raising an eyebrow….at which point he started to fidget lightly but didn`t react until I made a light gesture towards his small room/my wardrobe, giving me some privacy as I pulled the dress on, reaching for the comb and starting to straighten my hair a little before starting to add my only vestige of Goa`uld fashion sense: silky ribbons that I brushed into my hair as I set it out in a long braid and which were not interwoven in it and weighted on both sides with small golden and silver pieces, making small clinking sounds with my every step as I finally slipped into a pair of comfortable sandals and let out a small whistle. It was hardly divine, but in my opinion it was still a better choice than raising my Goa`uld voice till I cried for Var`tac straight through a wall and a door: even my small doubts of this being more fitting to call a dog then a child, had subsided after a while. As he trotted out of his chamber once more and gave my dress a small glance, before looking down at the floor again, I reflected that it was quite strange: being able to whistle was indeed one of the changes that had struck out a little bit more to me, as I never did or could do it in my former life…I just hoped I wasn`t going to do it at every chance I got now: I might get through with it as I was a goddess, but getting labelled eccentric by other Goa`uld? That might be even more embarrassing than the barely disguised tries of my superiors to call me stupid.

Walking towards the door with the smaller steps sounding behind me, I sighed once more and stepped onto the corridor, turning towards the next ring transport and softly repeating my question from before:

" **Are you afraid?"**

My voice echoed through the empty corridor as we traversed it, Var`tac at my side and his face once more shifting into the grimace of a young boy trying to keep a straight face and a brave façade because he didn`t want to disappoint…his goddess. Shacking my head lightly I turned to him once more, putting my voice down and asking:

"Did you visit your parents before Lateus send you up to me?"

The tightening of his lips and the small shake together with the look in his eyes made me want to strangle the older Jaffa…but that wouldn`t help now and Var`tac was barely older than my cousins son…and far less whiny thankfully. A small smile tugged on my lips, making quickly hide it even as I wanted to simply reach out and ruffle his hair and say him that everyone was going to be good again. Instead I only nodded lightly and continued to stride further with my hands on my back:

" **You are going to write them a letter…with three copies: you can train your writing and we can give them to someone before the ships takes off in three days: I expect your glyphs to be better this time Var`tac."**

A small bow once more was my only answer together with some mumbled thanks and I wondered if I had left the boy alone with Lateus for too long or if this was his way of falling back onto familiar and safe patterns. Compared to the way I had been fussing over his collar only a few days ago, skirting the behaviour that was appropriate for my role, and watched him help with the bakery…he could as well have been lying face first on the floor in prayer this far apart were we now.

The ring teleporter elected a small gasp of surprise from him and even to me it was quite amazing to move the distances inside of the ship effortlessly and without using any time. Compared to the officer quarters I had been before the hallway before us was blank and featureless: smooth walls with only the occasional history were lining our walk as we headed towards the first room. Stopping before it, I instead moved to the side, slipping into another smaller hallway, that as leading towards another door, behind which the depot for the third and fourth maniple lay. Opening it, I already found myself greeted by rows upon rows of amphora resting in wooden holdings, while grain piled up till to the roof, the sacks emitting an earthy scent that was reminding me of the fields I had measured back on the planet and from the way Var`tac was trembling…he remembered it too. Before I knew it, I had taken a seat on one of the grain sacks that were just about the right height, stretching out my legs and giving him a small glance as I gestured toward another sack opposite of mine, my voice echoing in the empty room and my hand running over a counter that usually served to shield the Jaffa scribe giving out the rations from the men.

" **Sit."**

The boy`s eyes went up to mine and then at the sack again and with another small sigh, I toned down my voice and gave it a more…human infliction, trying to smile ever so weakly:

"Sit down Var`tac, I think we need to talk about this."

With his features showing surprise for a moment, before he lowered his head and slumped onto the sack, for once seeming more like a sulky child than…whatever else he usually was: a mini servant? Tilting my head to the side, I closed my eyes before crossing my arms and asking softly: "What did Lateus tell you?"

"That…that you had been given an audience by Lord Zipacna and the Highest Scribe of Lord Apophis himself…and that were chosen to accompany the warriors of our home to the stars to reclaim our Lords just heritage."

A dry laugh slipped of my lips and Var`tac only looked up confused, as he didn`t see the source of my amusement. I simply couldn`t decide if the old Jaffa had used Var`tacs youth to make him believe the "official" interpretation of the events, or if he himself had believed this fully. If it was the former my temptation of shoving him around with a hand device had become more attractive once again…but in the latter case? Pity might be the only thing you could show someone this thoroughly loyal then. Seeing Var`tac hesitate I shook my head to dispel his worry and gestured for him to carry on, which he did with a more halting voice:

"He told me that your star was rising as bright as the twin suns of our home and that Lord Apophis himself did show interest in you…he said that I couldn`t wish for a better mistress and that I would bring my family honour by following you…that it was important for you to have someone with you when going to war and…"

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then show a brief glance of loathing…directed at no one else but him, before he continued to speak in a firmer voice:

"…and that I should be ready to defend you with my life, as would be my duty as the single Jaffa sworn to you on this ship.", hastily he added: "Not that I can call myself a warrior yet, I haven`t taken part in a campaign yet…but…I would be ready to do everything in my power to serve and protect you Lady Anai."

Was that delusion…or experience speaking out of the words that Var`tac was repeating? How should I feel that Lateus seemed to have feed the boy a story that seemed at the same time heroic and promising for him and his family…while swearing the boy in the "protect me" and I was quite sure that I could imagine just what kind of protection he was intended to be…

"I commend you Var`tac and I`m glad to retain your services…I would have preferred to do so with the knowledge of your family and their blessing, but if you feel this…strongly about it, letters will have to suffocate for now."

Standing up and brushing the dust of my dress, I walked towards the door and looked over my shoulder, my voice once more deepening as I saw the light smile, pride shining in his eyes: I called him nonetheless, my voice once more regaining its haughty tone:

" **Come Var`tac, we need to count the amount of blankets and personal store room set aside for each warrior."**

This wasn`t what I had in mind when I pulled him down for a more personal talk and keeping him on board wasn`t what I wanted either…but I had changed my decision for his sake: he would be broken if I decided to leave him on Chulak now, especially after everything Lateus had filled into his head and if I send him back now -most likely after the old Jaffa had told everyone about how I had chosen Var`tac to accompany me and how his family should feel honoured- this would only come back as a negative mark on him and his whole family. At least that was what I was thinking…or telling myself: just why…why couldn`t I shake of the feeling that I was doing this more for myself than for him?


	13. To break one's horns

A sharp vinegar smell hit my nose as soon as I broke the seal on the amphorae the small ceramic piece that had closed off the mouth before falling to the ground and bouncing of the deck with sharp clanks. Reaching to the side with one hand - Var'tac dutifully handing me a tin ladle, which had a handle in the form of a hissing snake- I pulled the amphorae slightly out of the rack that was holding it upright and subermed my tool in the dark liquid. Thankfully the widespread lack of sleeves on Goa'uld dresses, did at least safe me from rolling them up in fear of getting stains on the fabric – something that would have looked most...undivine, I think. Not that having a few of the drops falling on my bare skin was any better: unlike the wine I remembered from my other life, this swill was only mostly liquid – even if some fruit parts could be found in it- and where the drops rolled over my skin, smaller particles were left behind in its wake. Fishing on the bottom of the amphorae was met with resistance and with a flash of annoyance I pulled it back up, letting a small shower of wine splatter the ground as I srutiniced the content of my ladle, poking the wine coloured mass's in it with one finger. Shuddering a little as my fingertip sunk in, I took a small plate and emptied the ladle on it, spreading the mass out and starting to...well: guess what was what:

"Honey at least...this does look like some berries and this seems similar to honey..."

A loud laugh from behind me might have had me twirling around suspiciously a few days ago, but after Var'tac and I had started to examine the supplies, this had become more of a common occurrence as Fark seemed to have his scribes organized good enough to leave the day to day business to them and even lended a few to me. Especially after the delay of the legions arrival this was quite handy for me, as I was lacking any help of my own except for my ward. With this in mind I merely looked over my shoulder and raised an eyebrow, the boisterous laughter stopping after a moment as the older Goa'uld moved forward and dipped his smallest fingertip into the mass and pulled it back with some of the stuff clinging to it. His cheeks moved lightly outwards as he chewed the sticky stuff a little before announcing his verdict:

"Honey...with a sprinkle of marble shavings and a hint of tar to bind it."

My face formed a small grimace as I empty the ladle into a close by container, taking a scroll and checking the probe in as being drinkable. Compared to some of the other things I had found on the bottom of the wine so far, this was rather tame and the amphorae filled with vinegar weren't the worst of it: after all they were simply mixed with water and also declared drinkable. Partly these ingredients were intended to either enhance or mellow out different tastes of the wine, but a large portion was merely superstition in my opinion, even if they might claim that seashells keep the wine non-perishable or that grinded down bones of animals would enhance its effect.

"Charming."

Was my dry reply as I bent down and gave the amphora we tested a small chalk mark on its side, clearing its contents for consumption and labelling it wine... Even if Jaffa and Goa'uld were hardly able to get drunk: only by the consumption of vast amounts of wine per person that was high enough to be already labelled a waste once more.

Still: it was a cultural thing and the plants that were grown for this purpose were quite different from their counterparts on Earth: at least in the amount of sugar in them and the potential amount alcohol you could get out of them if you let them mature. Today no one knew who modified the genetics of that particular kind of grapevine, but it still was a monument to what kind of work people might take upon themselves just to get a pleasant little buzz from time to time.

"We are finished here, let's seal the compartment."

Pulling out a small control from the pocket on my belt, I ushered Var'tac outside – my fellow Goa'uld meanwhile doing slow and small steps together with a grin, trying his best to seem as nonchalant as possible…while the tip of my feet began to move up and down tapping against the deck.

"Today please Quartermaster, we can soon expect the Legion that was assigned to this ship to arrive."

Taking a last step over the threshold and then grinning, holding his belly with both hands and patting the small spare tyre with one hand, Fark gestured towards me and the door with amusement:

"And you are going to seal the chambers that hold your warrior's liquids? Shame on you Quartermaster, are you trying to demoralize our Great Lords warriors at the beginning of their campaign by withholding the spirit lifting spirits from them?"

Following him with measured strides, I took a small round stone from a small pouch on my belt, bringing it to the door panel on the right and waving it over it once, before pressing two of the symbols with a suspicious glance to the ships quartermaster on my left. He knew just well why I was locking down all of our supplies this tightly…after all he himself had warned me that less upstanding -hah!- people might take advantage of open supplies to sell them at the different stops we had planned to enrich themselves, while blaming the dwindling foodstuff on the Jaffa's appetite and my inaptitude to plan for it.

"You explained this to me yourself.", tapping against the keystone in my pouch I added: "The risk should be smaller with the central depots being locked and only opened one after another, less rooms things can disappear from."

The smile he gave me in return had a patronizing edge and his eyes looked at me bemused, in retro perspective this should have really been one of the signs that whatever I was trying to do, he had already seen it and done it better. But for now I was rather hopeful that narrowing down the number of available and open stocks, while keeping them under the watch of the Legions own Jaffa later on, would be enough to keep our supplies untouched and secure.

Still: for now, I merely gestured for Var'tac to follow me, while Fark walked next to me his hands stroking lightly over a new ring on his finger and I was already ready for another one of his tales as he started to speak:

"Did you know that Triarchus At'tak and I both once owned our fealty towards Ra before his brother our mighty Lord Apophis integrated the _Fiery Ascend_ into his fleet?"

Feeling that the question had been rhetorical, I simply shook my head and continued to walk towards our quarters once more. If I knew one thing about Fark than it was that he loved to talk-mostly about himself and his hobbies, which involved beautiful and expensive things, were they wine or woman. Reaching out and pulling the Jaffa boy to my side I rested a hand on his shoulder as I steered him slowly through the ship while once again another tale of our dear quartermaster was washing over my ears and I safely ignored it for the most part, nodding suitably impressed again and again, knowing full well that this would only end up with him pulling me and most likely also Var'tak into his room again where he would show us his inherent evilness by feeding us candied fruits and other treats only to show that they were diverted from Lord Zipacnas own table – like all good stage magicians love to do. Entering the ring transport to get up once more I barely hear the other Goa'uld say:

"….and of course we are currently expected in the main bay to welcome Legate Emal and the eight tribunes of your Legion."

I just had time to whirl around and give him a socked glanced as I rasped: "What?"

Before I could see him reach for his forearm, lightly touching the control strapped to it and giving me a loop sided smile as the rings rose up from the floor and their whining filled the air for a moment as light filled my vision…and in the next I could feel the change in the air, as a cooler and fresher breeze hit my face. The changes in the air were truthfully the best way to tell the different levels of the ship apart after using the ring transport. Of course the large open hangar bay that let you stare into the blackness of space was another good indicator to guess your current position in the ship. Taking a few steps forward I let my eyes linger on the view: Chulak was visible in the lower corner of the view and I could feel the boy on my side stiffen and stop once more as his mouth feel open and he stared at his home world. It must be an impressive sight for someone who only heard about this in stories and now found himself living through the kind of tales his older relatives told at the fire place…I really hoped this wouldn't become a story like that. Giving him a light push I seemed to successfully snap him out of his amazement, as he weren't alone in the hangar right now: instead nearly all of the ships Goa'uld officers and a large amount of Jaffa had gathered on one side of the hangar, with an elevated podium like position reserved for the Triarch At'tak with his closest advisors and the commander of the Al'keshs, while the other Goa'uld like Fark, me and the various commanders of the Deathglider wings were expected to mill around before it. Not wanting to disappoint and surely not wanting to make the Triarch notice me, I walked towards the corner of this little formation with quick steps and with my ward at my side. On my left was the nearly completely present group of the Deathglider _principales_ , whose sole purpose was to die quick enough to have just enough survivors to fill the very few positions free on Al'kesh groups and others ships – at least that was Farks opinion on the matter. Mine wasn't far better, but I was honest enough to say that I was mostly uninformed with the larger politics of the ship, the "friendly" rivalry between the ship Quartermaster and me was most of my daily interaction outside of Var'tac, who was slowly beginning to grasp the Arabic numbers. Not that I wanted anyone else to know about my peculiar system of counting, I think that daunted Fark more than anything else, because he couldn't ready most of the script I left in my room and he wasn't really trying to make it a secret that he could come and go as he wanted, it was after all only kind of "friendly" between the two of us and first and foremost we were Goa'uld.

I was torn out of my thoughts by the sound of clattering metal: The Jaffa to my right and somewhere far to the left, where Fark had found his place together with at least two principales that looked as if they were owning him a favour or two, were coming to attention, grasping their staff weapons firmly as they put one end on the ground and leaned the other forward like a spear. The sound of a hundred armoured man moving into position all at once was audible and impressive enough of the small smile of content on their commanding Tribun was any indication. They were ready to welcome the officers of the Dazai Plain Legion and it would be my pleasure to show the Tribunes to their quarters, while the Jaffa were shown their way by those of the ship and the Legate taken aside to spend the evening in the company of the Triarch. Joy(!), more social events that are going to take place in the next few days.

Their chosen vessel slowly swung into view as all heads turned towards the entrance of the hangar bay, the energy field giving the view outside a small tilt and tint…but the form of the Al'kesh was still clear and easily recognizable as it moved forward and slowly pushed through the thin membrane of the shield that was everything that kept the hard vacuum outside and us inside. But it did hold and simply let the large spacecraft through, its dark and golden surface nearly glossy as it touched down with barely a sound, having taken a few moments to slowly hover into position till it slowly turned around and then let go: the pilot must have had some experience if he could do it this comfortable while at the same time making it appear quite effortless. But of course they must have gotten someone experienced to evade dealing with a cadre of Goa'uld officers that had their day ruined by being bumped up and down in the moment their Al'kesh landed.

With the back of the craft now facing us, we could do little but wait a moment more as the bottom of the Al'kesh touched down on the floor, the dark surface contrasting with the light grey of the hangar bay. With barely a sound the door on the back opened up, slowly lowering and letting us take a glimpse into the craft, or at least those of us who were standing up there with the Triarch could, everyone else could merely see a bit of the ceiling. But as the Triarch stood up from his golden chair it was clear who had just arrived. A small ramp lead from the podium down towards the floor of the hangar and as the Triarch started to slowly descended it, the passengers of the Alkesh also came into view, careful to neither hurry downwards faster nor slower than the Triarch and intend on matching him perfectly. A large group exited the craft, the first and most important person was the Goa'uld I had already seen back home…. back at my first work place. He was now wearing an even richer version of the usual Jaffa style armour, it wasn't complete gold like the one Apophis was prone to wear, but it had a few ornate patterns running over its torso made from what seemed to be silver and gold applies to the surface of the naquadah derived alloy. He had also opted to only wear some kind of golden and silver cloth around her head, another way of showing off. But that wasn't without cause: the triarch had dolled himself up to match, wearing a long flowing intricate robe and the torso part of an armour, while a pelt lined cloak was resting around his shoulders and held together by a jewel encrusted pin: after all he was the owner of this ship, while the legate was only in command because Apophis had given it to him and was most likely a far bit younger too…. not that my few months of life could hold a candle to either of them.

Behind the legate came seven man and a single woman who all had opted to wear the "standard" armour that would make them rather hard to keep apart from a Jaffa if it wouldn't be for their lack of a tattoo declaring their fealty and single Zat'nik'tel strapped to their hips as side arm. Except for the female that was following the closest to the legate, most likely the one responsible for the first maniple: she was bearing a Kara kesh on her right hand, just like the legate himself and the triarch. As their position was similar to that of the principales, being too young to be of importance, young enough that their deaths on the battlefield wouldn't change anything -just like mine wouldn't- and young enough to be still more ambitious than was good for them merely driven by their genetic memory instead of warned, they filled in with a large space between them and the meetings of the two important commanders. They took position to the left and right of the ramp, five Jaffa per Goa'uld marching down the ramp and taking on a mirrored (even if smaller) formation facing the "Naval" Jaffa (?). They were as much decoration as a message, both parties showing of their power base and making sure that either their retreat was covered or that they could repel any would-be-boarders long before they could become trouble – and this was something that was standard even for a meeting of two Goa'uld with the same Lord and over his palace world nonetheless. Those two man meet in the middle of their respective parties, the walk down the ramps having given them the illusion of equality but the next moments were important to have each of them acknowledge their respective position. The Triarch was more important both in material wealth and in his current position of power with more Jaffa on his side, the legates political capital counted but weren't that high, as such he showed it by starting to lower himself in what could have been a bow…something he wouldn't have done if he wouldn't need to. By this action he acknowledged the superiority of his "host" the Triarch, who in turn reached down and stopped him from bowing, before pulling him up and clasping his forearm with his own. Once more they seemed to be greeting each other equals but the realities were affirmed and the structure on the ship was set with the legate and his legion being here as the Triarchs guests and reliant on his good will. Clapping could be heard from all sides and I joined in as the two leaders of their respective forces donned the mask of graceful host and guest, starting with a large cup of gold and silver that was presented: the legate took the first sip of the heavy wine mixed in it, having to take the possibility of poison being used on him upon himself, before the host himself took another sip and handed the cup back to the Jaffa that had brought it. It was now slowly giving to each of the arriving tribunes, all of them heaving a perfectly unreadable face as they took the cup in their own hands and took a long sip themselves. After them the principales followed and when it was my turn, I took the two handles and at least moistened my lips a little before handing it back…and doing my best not to flinch as I recognized the taste from Farks last wine tasting evening three days ago: he had done it again…

With everyone have shown their trust -or at least their lack of power to show their open distrust- the two leaders started to walk towards the closest ring transport, a guard of the ships Jaffa accompanying them as they set out towards the Triarchs own quarters.

As soon as the sound of the whining ring teleporter could be heard and both of them disappeared the remaining Goa'uld eyed each other warily. Where more - cordial? Normal?- soldiers or warriors might have taken the moment to mingle and exchange stories or whatever, everyone in this hangar bay wasn't moving at all instead eyeing each other while their hands staid near their weapons. I was sure that the this scene was basically the same which was going to happen in the Triarchs quarter just about now, only that their drinks and snacks were far better than those I had prepared. Thankfully the tense situation was -maybe not broken but at least diverted- as the commander of the Al'kesh stepped forward and offered the female Goa'uld that was commanding the first maniple to spend the evening with him in a little feast of their own. While this might sound…weirder to someone with our sensibilities this was purely a professional affair and had nothing to do with the hosts gender – after all sharing a dinner with another Goa'uld was more often the prelude to multiple attempts of poisoning or strangling each other in a perfectly pleasant manner. Giving him a curt nod, the woman with the short cropped dark hair followed him and this left me alone with…well the lowest people on the totem pole and…yep: Fark had also taken the opportunity to disappear from the gathering, leaving me alone to step forward and once again gain the attention of the principales who were eyeing me warily…and the tribunes who did the same. Walking over to them with Var'tac I performed a small bow, after all I hardly had any real value or power I could lose when acting a bit more respectful than I needed too….and at least two of the tribunes matched my bows, while others choose curter nod:

"I'm Anai, Scribe of the Dakai Plains Legion. I have prepared a meal and your rooms in the central part of the ship. My ward…", gesturing for the young Jaffa who knelt down under the collective gaze of multiple Goa'uld, not that they did pay him attention for more than a moment, I continued: "…will show your warriors to their quarters in the transport bays of the Ha'tak."

My name was seemingly known to them as they said their names in the short and clear manner that was reserved for the less subtle social blustering as if they all expected the others to be in awe of their names right from the start…. they were really fresh and had no achievements to their names, but to act like this was ingrained…and might give you a better position if someone fails to see this and becomes more subservient because he thinks you are someone important. From left to right their names were: Agymah, Neb-uer, Mari-ra, Tureis, Ubaid, Garai and Aten-nefru, in command of the second to eight maniple in just that order. Their names were less varied than their appearances with Agymah being of a darker tone and muscularity that would have fit right in with some of the Jaffa, while Garai was slender and one might say oily with the amount of the stuff he seemed to have gotten into his hair to make it appear sleeker. Tureis and Garai had shown me the same courtesy I had shown them by matching my bow, the others, not so much and it was easily to discern just why that was: my dress with the jewellery was a rather stark contrast towards their blank grey armour, making me stand out and at the same moment: not belonging.

Well: my next actions weren't going to endear to me either. Taking a few steps towards the ring transporter I could hear the tribunes shifting to follow me without giving it the appearance I was leading them -yes that's one of the public image things you have to worry about- and came to a stop as I did. Without any expression on my face to not be seen as mocking or worse, I faced the eldest of the principales and performed the same deep bow before inviting them too:

"Principales Greius. It would be an honour for me if you and the other principales would join us for this evenings feast, your presence would surely enrich the whole table.", seeing the reluctance I easily added: "As we are going to be travelling and fighting on this campaign together sharing bread and wine would only be natural, wouldn't it?"

Of course it was anything but natural…at least the motivation I was alluding too, in truth feast like this were a method to get information on the others and to…spend hours listening to the boats of other Goa'uld as they tried to top each other with their stories and deeds. They evening was going to be dreadful. At least the principales seemed intrigued for a moment, before giving a short nod – as long as the Al'kesh commander wasn't with us, he as the oldest was able to wield enough influence to force the other principales into line…more or less. They didn't seem to show much enthusiasm but neither were the tribunes as both groups once more went back to eyeing each other uneasily. With a barely suppressed sigh I moved towards the ring transporter and held up my control unit for it, letting the first few of the other Goa'uld join me for the short trip that transported us from the hangars to the centre of the ship and from there it was just a bit of walking before arriving at the large communal room that was set aside for us "junior-officers" and was welcomed by my ship-counterpart, who was already sitting on one of the many divans spreads through the room and sipping from a cup of wine, his "jewels" standing on his side in some of their best clothes and with enough flashing jewellery to bug a small fiefdom as they all kneeled down next to him as our now twenty person strong group entered the room in small groups of five or six. Looking over to the seven tribunes -who were in smaller numbers than the twelve principales- I inclined my head towards the Goa'uld sitting on his divan and introduced:

"Naval Quartermaster Fark Natas of the "Lords fiery Ascend", constant annoyance to our dear Triarch At'tak the Rock."

A few laughs greeted this declaration from the principales that had the joy of already being on the ship for a while, Fark meanwhile simply raised his cup to the declaration and cried out:

"And you are the new Tribunes? Yes? Then why are you standing? My lovely jewels are going to give you wine and our hostess is going to cut the roast for us: Long may our Lord Apophis reign and may we conquer all the territory that is rightfully his!"

His declaration was meet by some cheer as the first few Goa'uld got their cups with wine…and only grew louder as they tasted the well-chosen vintage -another one from the captain's storages I was sure- and soon they laid down on the different divans and pillows scattered around the room. The armour was flexible enough and many were most likely glad enough to have at least some measure of protection should this feast take a turn for the worse…not that I did expect this. For now everyone was content to stay in their own groups on the two sides of the room, only me and Fark had taken seats in the middle next to one another and while his beauties sauntered through the ranks and poured in wine into cups as soon as they were emptied. In the beginning their was a bit of hesitation, but after the first few cups were drunken without anyone keeling over poisoned? I did have to have at least the good grace of not poisoning people at my own feast and that the wine as well as the service were quite pleasing to drink and watch as only improving their mood. Even Fark was getting more and more lively – most likely because he was having at least a dozen jealous glares on him whenever the other Goa'uld watched his slaves and were reminded that they were already owned by someone. It must be part of the charm, being able to show off against others while seeing their fruitless endeavours to get a taste of the same pleasures...or something like that.

"The Roast!", the other quartermaster suddenly cried and nearly throw me over and that would be quite a mess with the cup I was holding in my hand. Stumbling upwards he threw up the door leading from the neighbouring kitchen into the room and was rewarded by the smell of the freshly prepared roast, its well done sides temptingly pulling everyone's gaze to them as the whole bull was shoved into the room in a large cart pushed by four Jaffa, the large metal pole going through it once used to turn it…now it was merely another way on which the fat could drip down onto the ground. With a large grin Fark gripped the knife prepared to cut the bull apart – even if it had more similarity with a short sword at this size- and then throw it to me. Quickly reaching out I grasped it with one hand, my heightened reflexes the only thing rescuing me from getting impaled on it, as I threw him a glare and took another sip from my cup….which made the other Goa'uld start laughing and clapping loudly at the "joke" and me nearly getting a sword to the chest…very funny. It was worrying that that was a rather tame practical joke compared to some she had seen in her memories, just another reason to hide from such parties in the future. But for now I could only smile while my eyes conveyed the murderous urge to take the sword and cut another bull…and from the way everyone was looking at me this was only making the joke even better. Turning towards the complete bull my own idea of a joke appeared and walking toward it with two quick strides I called out:

"Praise be our Lord Apophis for he provides for us this bounty…."

True and at the same time a religious phrase and with this I brought the sword down and with two quick hacking movements I had the roasted skull of the animal of its shoulders, a grin as I reached down to pick out up and ran a hand over its still intact horns, polished white to be more impressive:

"…and thanks to the provider of this particular bounty, he shall have the first piece!"

And with this I lunged forward under the laughter of the rest of the hall as I used the Bulls head like a ram…and did dive right at the easiest point to aim at: Farks rather rotund belly. He could only let out a gasp as I rammed the horns down….one on each side of his body and right into the Divan, while the flesh dripped tasty smelling oil on his robes. Standing up I laughed deeply and booming and the rest of the room joined in as the older quartermaster remained "stuck" beneath the head, wiggling more in joke than in real as he finally let out a theatrical sigh and called one of his servants to his side…and had her slowly feed him pieces of the head as he remained on the ruined furniture and called out:

"I thank the hostess for her boon, but wouldn't want to keep everyone from continuing their meal. May the "Lords fiery Ascent" make us Proud and my the Dazai plain Legion find worthy enemies!"

And this lead to another round of laughs and drinking as the remaining two woman had all hands full with providing just enough wine for everyone. Standing at the bull I was slowly cutting my way through its side, handing out the flesh to each of the guests personally, their eyes checking the size and texture of their piece and comparing it to those around them before eating it with delight and surely it soon came as it should be and the first principales began:

"This roast is impressive, but did you ever hunt Ebours in Lord Sa'mufs hunting grounds? They are the size of a Tel'tak and you hunt them on the planet's surface with a death glider: you even need a whole Al'kesh to carry them off after hunting them down!"

"With a Deathglider? I was part of the great Hunt Lord Apophis called to catch the unseen creatures of the Twin mooned forest world…"

"But you never did catch any, didn't you?", another principales said, stopping the tribune before he could continue and earned himself a stormy glare in return and a set of flashing eyes, which he replied in turn: these effects were only truly effective with slaves not with eachother.

"We did not…but on the way back we encountered a giant insect the size of an Al'kesh, looking like a small mountain and while the Jaffa died to it, I throw myself against it with a staff weapon and…"

Shaking my head I started to cut more pieces, some for myself and only listened to the conversation happening behind my back with one ear, something else was occupying my mind for the moment, something I had just seen. Because when I had thrown myself at him with the head of the bull it hadn't been the nice, slightly chubby and comfortable Fark that had looked back at me with friendly eyes…. but a poised and stern Fark Natas, another Goa'uld that looked at me with cold calculating eyes, his body poised and hands moving to something inside of his robes. Whatever it was I had seen, it was away once again when the joke was revealed, his soft good natured smile and looks easily placed back on his features…. just like any other mask.


	14. A good Story

**A Good Story**

„Leave us alone."

One should say: as far was meeting places went, the bath was surely one of those you could feel reasonable safe in. Not because it was a semi-public place, but because Goa'uld had little to no issues with nudity and this allowed to quickly see if your counterpart was armed with anything that might be a weapon -even jewelry and other small gimmicks. That still left the "natural" weapons of their respective bodies but water was…it was making you feel safer and relaxed, while at the same time being the environment in which not only the Host body but also the one of the Goa'uld felt perfectly comfortable. But of course the Goa'uld race had originally been predators in the water and as such, things could quickly escalate once more should something happen to rise the old instincts of a gladly forgotten past. Still: as far as the bath went, I was feeling terribly exposed with nothing on me and the servant girl with the towel just being sent outside, but at the same time the first tribune who had just entered and was taking a place opposite of me wasn't wearing anything else either…this was going to be awkward…let's just imagine this was the sauna…a sauna with the chance of a deadly fight in hot water as we try to break each other's neck. Okay thinking of this as something else might be better. Still, the water gave the things a more informal nature, after all you could hardly do a courtly bow while soaking in warm water and without any bit of clothing on you, as such I merely inclined my head deeply, before greeting her with a simple questioning:

"Tribune…."

Stepping into the water too, she merely quirked an eyebrow at the question, before letting out a soft laugh, having also taken to continuing in a "normal" voice as one hand lightly played with the water and the other cupped her cheek as she observed me:

"It's true what they said about you…you aren't that interested in political affairs, are you Scribe Anai?"

Her question was laced with a bemusement that was at the same time true…and condescending at once, her sharp dark eyes continuing to look at me as I merely inclined my head and did the smallest hint of a bow while also submerged in water, keeping my voice light as I agreed demurely.

"It's true that I am not a lover of great feasts and the intrigue and posting that come with them."

A sharp laugh made me look up once more as she gave me a wolfish grin, her angular features facing me directly as she called out:

"I do not think so: politics are in our very blood as much as the stuff of miracles and everyone here is interested in the politics…of this ship, of the Legion: of the whole Empire of our Lord and those beyond. Don't tell me you are not interested: this would be a lie as everyone is interested in their own advancement…and survival. So tell me Scribe Anai: why hasn't there been even one poison in the meal you gave to the other tribunes?"

The first tribune was one of the persons who seemed to like to talk, who seemed to think that their cleverness extended far enough to be capturing to the attention of others…she wasn't completely wrong, her voice and the way she spoke sure where compelling and merely reading them would never do them the justice they deserved…one of her ancestors must have taken a rhetorician as host. The question was clearly rhetoric, still:

"There was no poison, because there is no need for it: killing either of them would put me at a disadvantage with whatever patron had gotten them this position and wouldn't lead to me advancing as we are close enough to Chulak for another newborn being send to our Legion….and the legate would have to step in and make an example out of me for trying to kill my way upwards – before the whole legion falls apart as the officers try this in such an obvious way."

The answer was simple and blunt, nothing more than a question deserved which -if it would have been more than a rhetorical tool- was quite insulting to any Goa'uld with more than one brain. After all raging beasts had little to no place in the Goa'uld Empire: either they were put down…or became a ruling Lord with their own fiefdom because they were useful to keep around. Still: my answer seemed to be enough to make the first tribune laugh once more as she absently started to inspect the various small ceramic flasks with oils and perfumes that waited for me:

"Not a bad answer – many newborns forget that there's more to rising in rank than mere "untraceable" murder – timing and appropriateness for example."

With her smile unwavering she moved forward and suddenly touched my bare shoulder, her fingertips pressing down ever so gently as she said in a bemused tone:

"Turn around scribe Anai and let me take care of your hair."

Considering her face for a moment I couldn't help but shiver as her amusement continued unabated: was this the reason for that terrible blunt question? Making me uncomfortable? The Truth is: it worked and reminded me of the typical Goa'uld way to rise ranks – something I had hoped I wasn't going to have to worry about with my more unassuming position. Obviously not unassuming enough if the first tribune -who hadn't told me her name yet- had deemed it necessary to set up this meeting. The choice I had was clear – either I was going to decline openly showing my distrust for my superior and send the message that I wasn't interested in aligning myself with her or I was going to accept this "service", turn my back to her to show my trust/submission and let her take care of me. Of course I could also be interpreting far too much into seemingly friendly motions – if the Goa'uld had friendly motions as something other than small rituals to help already existing bindings: sticking to my title and making me continue to use hers also gave this seemingly purely private meeting a more official tone.

And as such the reaction from my side was simple: to turn around and close my eyes as a strangers hands started to gather up my hair, stroking through it as she used a small cup from the side to pour scented lotion onto it, before starting to slowly massage it in. It might truly have been enjoyable if not for the knowledge that she was going to ask me something before this bath was finished and depending on what it was or rather what my answer was going to be the way the following months were going go past would improve slightly…or become far worse than I had originally feared. In this case I could only keep my eyes closed and my hands on my side as the taller and -at least when it came to the looks of her hosts- far fitter tribune finished my hair and ever so slowly let go again – showing no hurry and no bit of small bemusement that I didn't try anything. But why try something if you were sure that it wouldn't work anyway?

If this would have been a story I might have interrupted her at this very moment, whirling around and telling her to cut the chase, demanding to know what she was up to and getting some bemusement from her in return. This wasn't a story and so I kept still even when she tapped against my neck, my "real" body shivering along its position on the spine and setting me on edge: usually I was perfectly content to just imagine I was still human. I waited, listened to the drops of water falling from my drenched hair into the water of the, till I said slow and silently:

"How can I be of service to you Tribune?"

The hands slowly pulled back from my wet hair, the water splashing a little and making waves as she moved to my side again, her face appearing once more before me. She wouldn't have looked too out of place on the streets of Vivienne with a slight tan and a slender body. But would have put her apart from "normal" female on Chulak would be the short cut that left her hair in short stubbles along her head – quite less feminine than would be appropriate, one of the reasons mine was tickling my back without being cut in the last months, but perfect if you planned to secure your head with the metal caps that served as helmets for Goa'uld and higher ranking Jaffa. Her face wasn't beautiful in the more…let's say alluring nature most Goa'uld seemed to favor when taking female hosts if they weren't quite going with the warrior goddess theme: instead her features were sharper, with a nose that stood out and gave the rest of her face a look that made you think of a bird of prey. That she was also an inch or two taller than me and showed the signs of regular workout -something that wasn't really needed for a Goa'uld and mostly only served optical purposes and was done voluntary- made it quite clear that she was what one might call a career officer. One that was now once more looking at me with bemusement as she said:

"Shouldn't you ask how we can be of service to one another scribe Anai? After all, if someone does need help onboard of this ship that would be you."

And once more we descended into the wordplay, or were we? The way she was wording it she was looking for mutual help and even as first Tribune she didn't have the rank to do something terrible with me should I decline her. Something "officially" horrible that is, but murdering your scribe in transit might be quite the hassle as one of the other officers would have to take over my job and let's be realistic: who would want to work when you can just stand on a hill and look dramatic while the Jaffa blast each other apart below you? I could at least indulge in some Goa'uld-ish pride as I tried to push myself up and called out:

"What makes you think I would need your help Tribune? You haven't even given me your name yet and are offering an alliance of mutual benefit to me."

Her reply was only another sharp smile that was already beckoning that she knew more than I knew of what she knew and was looking forward to show it. With a small tap against the side of the pool she started to count:

"For one you are alone – you are a newborn and even thought you were positioned on Chulak for multiple months you haven't used the chance to create connections that would benefit you now. You have neither a patron nor clients to call your own and the only help you have gotten out of your prior office is a young Jaffa who has become your ward. That you were shuffled into our Legion this quickly and just prior to our departure shows that someone wanted to get rid of you quite bad, so you must have done something: got caught embezzling taxes or something?"

That her conclusion to my rather rapid departure from Chulak was close, but in the completely opposite way of what she was expecting and correcting her misgivings was something I was wary off. Being thought to be either terrible at hiding your dirty work or just having had bad luck makes people underestimate you and you can shift their impression towards thinking it was bad luck if you work hard enough. Being kicked out for having done your job right without any feeling for the connections taking place could make you look loyal and hardworking…or earnest/stupid and shortsighted and a liability in the arena of politics. My silence on that point didn't stop her from continuing to talk as she picked up again:

"The next reason is that you are alone in the Legion – the Legion not the ship: on here you have the apparent protection of your senior quartermaster, but we are going to leave this vessel sooner or later. At that point you will be all alone with the rest of us and as the person responsible for ordering supplies, parting loot and writing into the chronicles of our Legion, you are going to be the target everyone wants to comply with them. For this purpose I will offer my protection to you, while you will be able to contribute in other manners in accord with your already given duties."

Her small little talk came to an end, her eyes looking intently at me as she reached up, her hand breaking through the surface of the water once more as she held it up to me, drops hitting the baths surface as I stared at the offered hand…. thought about the deal….and finally reached out too. Clasping her forearm I could see the calculating smile on her lips: the first tribune seemed to be quite intend in keeping her current rank – or even advancing it? I wouldn't say that she had planned to start the quite illustrious career that was going to unfold in the next decade at this point and I might at least claim some of the credit for setting her onto the path that was going to make her famous…but for now she was only another Goa'uld – albeit the first one I had shared a bath with.

"And you are right Anai, I haven't given you my name yet."

Her hand tightened around my slender forearm as she grinned with pearl white teeth and looked into my eyes with a highly intelligent look, her eyes tracking mine as I shifted ever so slightly:

"I'm first tribune Cydippe Charis. I'm sure it will be a pleasure to work together."

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* * *

Only a few days later I wasn't quite sure what to think about the first tribune. Standing in my own quarters I was leaning over the crater I had bought on Chulak, holding the brim of the ceramic with one hand I was mixing it with a long brush. Var'tac was pouring in wine from one of the few smaller amphora's that I had also bought before our departure and a can of water ready to be mixed in too. Cydippe was reclining on a lounger next to mine, playing with the silver cup in her hand as she smiled at the other guest of mine, who in turn was merely slipping another dried and sweetened fruit into his mouth. The two weren't the only guests at this occasion because I enjoyed their presence that much, but because I would be hard pressed to find anyone else that would be willing to follow my invitation. Our legate was only calling me into his quarters when he had something to demand from our supplies or was trying to find some problem or another in my work and had never forwarded any invitation to meals with him and the other officers of the legion. To be honest: the first Tribune was the only one of them talking more than just "the job" with me and the same could be said for the Goa'uld that were serving on the ship: I was after all only a stranger that was part of the legion that was currently making a mess out of their home and rather low ranked anyway. The festival of the first night was the only occasion when I could "enjoy" my time and while the first few days had been rather pleasant with me not being forced to talk with those arrogant snakes, it slowly became more and more oppressive to know that the Legate seemed to be doing his best to keep everyone away from me. As for the reasons…that seemed to have become tonight's topic of choice, while Var'tac and Euterpe were doing their best to remains as inconspicuous as possible, with the young Jaffa slipping into the role of a helpful servant and the muse…well she was pressed quite closely against Fark and her job was halfway between a pillow and someone feeding him. As I finished my preparations of the wine, throwing in a handful of spice for good measures, I looked up just in time to see two pairs of golden flashing eyes looking back at me as it seemed to be my turn to contribute something to the discussion:

"I have meet the Legate before on Chulak, briefly that was, and he wasn't that interested in speaking to me back then either. But as Lord Zipacna was one of the persons making sure that I landed on this ship and in this legion and Legate Emal is a creature of Zipacnas."

The other two people whose opinion mattered gave a quick nod, the first Tribune out of personal experience with the commander she had served with (or did one call it survive) for two prior campaigns and Fark because he was a never ending source of rumors and little stories that made their way through the ship and kept it going. That he was most likely also responsible for most of the "luxury goods" and trinkets the Jaffa were able to take home when they were actually not allowed to fill important space with those, of course made him one of the most important people to know and butter up as Jaffa. The Tribune meanwhile merely asked:

"So, you did become an annoyance to Lord Zipacna and not an embarrassment to our Lord Apophis? Failing in embezzling some taxes from some farmers shouldn't warrant that much of annoyance from a great Lord, or?"

Her question was rewarded by a loud chuckle from Fark, who put his cup to the side – or rather pressed it into the hands of his girl, rewarding her with a sip as he looked towards me and then the Tribune with a broad grin. The expression alone made me already groan with a roll of my eyes as I got myself my own cup and filled it with some of the wine. I was just quick enough to get my first sip as he began:

"But First Tribune, hasn't Anai told you yet: her error wasn't being caught – but catching people who were truly embezzling funds. Funds that were used by our dear Lord Zipacna – an action done right under the nose of our great Lord Apophis. The following unpleasantness between the courts also demanded for the scribe responsible for creating this scandal at such a crucial time to be send towards a less critical area. Anai made a lovely peace offering between the courts, entrusted with the care of a whole Legion out to secure the rightful territories of System Lord Apophis, or?"

Cydippe seemed to be honestly surprised for a moment, as much as you can read into a moment or two of her face turning into an unmoving mask as she seemed to think about the new information she had gotten, before starting to smile once more as she let out a laugh and Fark soon joined in...leaving me to flush slightly in good humor as I looked down and gulped down another bit of my wine, the memories in my mind helpfully supplying that events like this could later be used to construct camaraderie, or to have a reason to punish them should I rise past them. Wasn't a Goa'uld friendship lovely? Still when both calmed down again, Cydippe began once more:

"We aren't too different then you and I, Anai. They also put me under the command of a good underling of Lord Zipacna, because I defected from the services of Chronos to those of Lord Apophis and he wants me to have an eye on his Jaffa, while at the same time having the Legate watch me for any sign of treachery. Now that makes it quite apparent why I am dining down here with the two of you, doesn't it?"

Fark didn't seem to react with much surprise to that revelation, he had most likely known it already and I tried to hide all reactions to it too, merely reaching out and grasping her cup, bringing it up for a refill once more as I gestured towards the small plate with sweetened nuts:

"May I inquire how you were able to do so first Tribune? Our Lord is hardly known for his forgiving nature on the battlefield and his persistent martial duties have led to quite a surplus of skilled lieutenants below him."

This truly was a most curious case – the low level Goa'uld were quickly disposed more often than not, mostly by the hand of other Goa'ulds to stop the Jaffa from getting ideas, but those that survived a takeover by a hostile System Lord were most often either with great personal forces at their back, skilled enough to warrant the recruitment or had simply been at a long chain of supply and no one was available to replace them – most often than not the later was the fate of the local scribes that continued to administrate planets even when the owners changed as often as the seasons. But Cydippe, she was "military" through and through and the smirk that was already darting over her lips as she took another ship was more than enough to make us lean closer as we expected a story:

"It was in a battle above the planet of Kepeion: six Ha'taks of Lord Cronus were fighting against eight lead by System Lord Apophis himself. I was leading one of the Death glider wings housed in the Ha'tak Acheron and we were send out to form a screen against the approaching enemy Al'kesh that were trying to drop down on our motherships like the majestic eagle does when readying itself to drop the tortoise it is holding in its claws. But we had come out to meet them, our own Al'kesh staying behind us like a man holding a leash with eager hounds on it, the twelve wings of my ship keeping just enough closeness to them as everyone was eager to be the first to spill the blood of the enemy over the surface of our Lords holdings!"

That she had given up said Lord in favor of the enemies from that day didn't seem to give her any pause and even Fark wasn't making a comment on it, instead eager to listen to her as he gulped down another mouthful of wine. Her voice was filling the room easily enough and her hands were gesturing around us with unleashed energy as she described the maneuvers of her wing and the progression of the battle, the Naval-Quartermaster soon listening to her just as attentive as my young ward, who still clung to the stories of martial glory that accompanied each Jaffa when growing up. It was a good story – even if one might never knew just how much of it was true and how much was fiction done to make the storyteller look better. But why dim a good story with reality?

"Our chance came in the moment our enemies rushed forward like the rising tide, trying to overthrow our Al'kesh by rising above them. But we also got our orders to let loose and in the center of my squadron I set loose, my Jaffa following me as we crossed the path of our enemies in utmost bravery, bracing us against their fire as our own boiled their armor and tore apart their machines, scattering their remnants across the emptiness of space. One of my Jaffa missed his mark and crashed his machine – but even in death he did so with my name on his lips and his glider pointed right at the underbelly of an enemy, tearing him apart in his own death before we moved through the enemy's lines and appeared on their far side once more. Our number had shrunken down by half and my own weapons had ended the lives of two… three enemy pilots!"

With the same tenacity, she was currently describing in her maneuver, she had attacked the wine in her hand, needing another refill as her cheeks started to warm up and her face became more lively. As she mimed the pass through the enemy flight line she trust out the cup, splashing half of it over the table between us to the delight of Var'tak, whose eyes were glued to her every word and I felt a stab of…something as I compared it to the usually more dull and subsided look he gave me with our everyday work. But the story had just begun and I steeled myself as Cydippe fought on in words and mind:

"Now we were readying ourselves for the next attack, our gliders turning in a graceful glide akin to the birds they are imitating and we found ourselves aligned above our enemies, their faces staring up at us – and our Al'kesh were serving as little fortresses, stopping their advances and killing them with their heavier cannons. Thus, we had our own chance to dive at them like the hawk does to the defenseless dove, their weapons unable to orientate towards us in time and we were able to destroy the first of them without any resistance – but then the battle was joined again and our carefully laid out passes became the deadly dance of gliders. It was only when my squadron had been cut down to half of its size when the Ha'taks made their presence known and opened up with their heavy cannons across the battlefield."

To everyone's amusement the Tribun had already been moving while telling the story, her hands grasping cups, plates and coins from my prior game of Merels against Fark and pushing them over the surface in a representation of her battlefield as she tapped against the coins that stood for the Al'kesh and then traced lines outwards from the Ha'taks:

"Their fire concentrated on the Al'kesh and from one moment to the next out fight became nearly inconsequential as the titans of the battlefield unleashed the rage of their nautarchs against another, the great plasma bolts easily the size of my glider as they slammed into friendly and hostile Al'kesh alike. The rest of my squadron died in this fire and in repelling the remaining death gliders of the enemy – both screens in shambles and the enemies Al'kesh dangerously exposed as our own darted forward with the tatters of our screen clinging to them like a shroud."

She herself was of course symbolized by a ring she had pulled from her fingers, a modest one compared to the others, but on its surface was the easily recognizable silhouette of a Death glider, polished and gleaming in bronze as she shoved the marker forward together with the coins, taking those of the enemy way and then swiping some of the plates that stood for the Ha'taks away too.

"But even when we were charging forward bravely, the forces of Lord Apophis proved to be disciplined and rich in experience, their captains not breaking and searching for safety as their broken screens moved back to them, but instead targeting our Ha'tak and picking them off one by one as they concentrated on bringing down one after another without succumbing to the desire of their own personal glory. It was here that the last of our Al'kesh was blown apart by a Ha'taks main weapons, its parts sailing past my seat as I rode by it ever so faintly, its broken tips nearly touching ours as the Jaffa behind me wailed in terror."

The last part was most likely one of the features that was only added afterwards and a smile that was nearly…fond could be seen gracing her lips as she took her ring and put it into the central plate of Apophis formation, one of the seven Ha'taks still standing on his side:

"I was the last of our screen who was still alive and flying – but my Glider had been hit already and its wings scorched. Like a dying phoenix I scooped down after the last of the enemy fighters, destroying another one of it before it could reach the safety of its ship and evading the heavy guns of the Ha'tak. Then I steered my Glider into the belly of the beast, landing in the bay of the ship and taking out the engineers that had been standing ready for the damaged gliders with my Zat'nik'tel. Thus I and my loyal Jaffa took over the glider bay of the whole Ha'tak, an affront to the nautarch that would have been blasted out of memory with the force of a twenty staff weapons, if our great Lord wouldn't have heard of my actions and offered me a place in the fleet as one of the Principales that I had shot down."

With this she concluded her story, standing up and performing a mocking boy to her audience of four, Fark grinning openly and starting to clap, with me soon joining in and the muse and the boy joining in at a more sedate pace as if clapping more silent would make them invisible to the eyes of those above them. With eyes full of pride Cydippe grasped her cup again and raised it, calling out loudly:

"I thank our dear friend Anai for this invitation and I thank our great Lord for the chance he has given us. May this campaign be victorious! May Lord Apophis claim the territories that are rightfully his and may all those that dare to try stealing it find wither away before his might!"

Even as I raised my cup, the wine in it splashing from side to side and spreading the smell of spices before me and I echoed her toast with all the excitement I had in me– not even needing to hide it, even if was because of other reasons-, I found myself looking at the ring around her finger. But no matter what was truth, what was fiction and what was said to give us an image of herself that she had built up with great care…. the look on my young wards face and the grin on that of Fark made me confess without envy:

It was a good story.


	15. War of Gods

**War of Gods**

"You are a goddess Scribe – you are aware of that, aren't you?"

If I would be – I would at least be able to shield my office from intruding first Tributes, who snooped around inside far too often for my liking and seemed to always be able to get past the locks I inserted into the door: obviously I suspected Fark to give her my codes. If anyone in on board had truly subverted the crystal systems and knew just which ones to copy and pass, then the Quartermaster – or the captain, but the later didn't really have any reason to keep tabs on me, or? For now, I went back to my favourite approach to this: ignoring her. Brushing the reading stone over the tablet and seeing the letters ripple and shift between the Egyptian Hieroglyphs we were using and the script that easily reminded one of old Chinese if one spend enough staring at it, I tried to concentrate myself on the numbers of humans workers we were taking on board. Wasn't that a euphemism: workers – they were merely nearly ten thousand terrified peasants that were being shoved and prodded into the holds of our ship with the use of cattle prods -something the Rods of Anguish were, only far more painfully and able to make your eyes and mouth glow. While the scribe of the Legion didn't have to oversee the whole procedure aside from morning roll calls, it still fell to me to delete the identification numbers of the slaves from our rolls. No names, no families, no home village – just a single number depending on how far in the line they did stand when getting pushed into the ship. Of course, I couldn't stay sinking into my own pit of self-loathing - I could imagine just why already a dozen slaves had to be taken of the rolls in just two days - as the uninvited first tribune took my silence as her sign to poke me – quite literally as she tapped the end of her wooden training Ma'Tok against my nose. Having perfect control over your body is quite useful in situations when you -as normal human- would have stumbled backwards and maybe even falling of your chair out of surprise. Instead I was able to keep perfectly still even as I felt the poke and slowly pushed the wooden tip away from my nose, giving Cydippe merely an annoyed glance as I replied easily:

"And you are still soaked from training – why don't you go and clean yourself up, or find a few other young stupid tribunes to trash in your training fights. I'm sure that would be far more entertaining than…"

…well the rest of my room as I gestured around it once, at the various scrolls, books and now reading tablets that were littered through it together with a pair of scales and the local weights next to it. Truly I had an idea why I was of importance as potential ally, or at least a source for the best pieces of loot. But did that really warrant her spending this much time poking and prodding me? It was really hard to say if she wanted to pursue closer ties – or was just showing how easy it would be for her to terminate me as the lock on the door wouldn't stop her. If I had learned one thing in the days of travel towards the planet we were currently orbiting – a rather boring planet called Yinxu, which was today littered with ruins and ghost cities as it had once belonged to a rather important subordinate of Lord Yu, but he later tried to backstab the system lord and was consequently punished, with his lands being cast out by Lord Yu and soon falling to all other System lords who tore the pieces they liked out of the region and each took their turn in torturing the traitor called Yin- then it was that she truly enjoyed combat: to an degree that even astonished some of the professional Jaffa. I think at this time she was more or less alone at the training grounds with her century of Jaffa and others that willingly joined her gruesome training regime, while the younger tribunes had quickly given up on it after getting their pride thoroughly rattled after having their asses kicked by her in staff to staff combat. Obviously they declared the whole thing for meaningless as the hand devices would stop move of such attacks by the virtue of allowing them to throw any attacker closing in, around with just a gesture. I think currently Cydippe had truly beaten every other officer in our Legion except for the legate himself in combat like this – and our glorious leader was surely quite unlikely going to risk even a training confrontation with his second in command, in which he could lose face if he lost. Of course, a lack of opponents only meant that she was badgering me even more now, and the smirk on her lips showed that she was here and wanted to be amused – and would get her amusement one way or another:

"As long as you don't volunteer to try the training with me – I hardly have anyone left to beat in combat. Well I'm sure the naval Quartermaster knows a few things more than he lets on, but the last time I tried to talk him into a training fight, he drowned himself in wine and his muses till I gave up."

"And I guess I can't decide to choose the same excuse to get out of your clutches? I'm sure I have another small collection of wines underneath the filling cabinet over there."

A certain collection that mostly consisted out of what Fark would usually call plain grape juice and make fun off, before pulling out some of his more exotic and expensive mixtures. At least with my wine I could be sure that I wasn't drinking tar or fermented oxen testicles inside of it – but to each their own I guessed and didn't stop him from pouring that stuff into him. I was sure even a symbiont would have to start fighting with constant lead poisoning sooner or later, but that's what hosts are for, or?

"Not at all Scribe, I'm fairly determined to follow you down to the planet and get you to have some fun when you run your completely private errand."

The way she said it, with a grin tugging on the sides of her lips was already warning enough to tell me that she knew something that she shouldn't know: the question was merely what? For now feigning ignorance was my best bet as I looked down and opened another scroll, looking at the total amount of shovels and mining picks that had been delivered to us in anticipation of having to siege a strong point or two, while also taking care of more organisational issues: latrines for example. Even with their improved metabolism, Jaffa still had to go and shit from time to time. Still…

"What do you mean follow me down? I'm sure we already went through the worst that delusional goddess with delusion of grandeur organised for us – I don't think I can stomach another two hours of ballades about the time she saved Yu's life from Yin's treachery and was rewarded a wide spanning fief. That must have been around the Age Fark was a new-born and today she rules nothing but that little rice growing planet – no matter how she comes from the same Queen that spawned Yu."

Where Zipacna's parties were at least entertaining in a way that left you with a weird crab taste in your mouth and the general inability to point out just what had happened and when…the parties of Lady Wa were stifling in a completely planned and unchanging etiquette that was attempting to imitate the court of the System Lord Yu as it had been the last time Lady Wa visited it – which must have been a few hundred years ago. Her attempts were completely forced and many of the other officers that were part of those taxing affairs tended to agree on that point and soon only the Captain and the Legate were unable to excuse themselves from attending one ceremony or another. After all she was the Goddess of a planet, one whose agricultural products and human workforce were use in quite many of Lord Apophis prior plans and with her domain lying close to the borders to what had once been the fiefs of Ra, she might benefit quite a bit from the war if our lord was generous. Not that I would ever want to set a foot into her court again – even if the rice was lovely.

"Well I did intercept a little Jaffa of yours and guess what I found~."

She sing-songed in a manner that must clearly have come from her host or a past one, why would a goddess have a need for knowing what sing-songing is anyway? Those thoughts didn't stop me from flushing angrily as I recognized the slip of ceramic she was holding up before me, informing the goddess Anai that her order had been finished in the local metal working shop and the artists that had been hired to take care of it were paid out, with their colour dried and polished. Quickly snatching the former piece of pottery that was being reused as note from her hands, I pushed it into my bag and then gave her annoyed look as I tried:

"And what if I…"

"You won't scribe – after all this is the last day before our departure towards the first world we need to reclaim in the name of our Lord Apophis, you can hardly leave things here in the case you should ever return here, or?"

While I'm sure the great-grandson of the artisan I hired for my little side project would still hold onto the case in a century or two – or would have if there weren't some galaxy wide catastrophes coming in the near future- I wasn't so sure about coming back here ever again, especially as…

* * *

…the planet had no Chappa'ai. Something that became already apparent when you stepped out of the ring transport and into the palace proper. Cydipple trailing next to me with two armed Jaffa as patrol and sign of our authority – something that at least quickly made all local Jaffa bow their heads reverently as we walked towards the city as honoured guests of the Lady Wa. Most of the planets in Goa'uld territory had changed rulers often, not only the "thematic" Systemlords, but also their subordinates, who sometimes started out shaped by other cultural backgrounds before changing overlords. As such they were most often bearing an eclectic design when it came to their cites, houses or merely their interior design. Chulak had been a rather good example with the planet having large "Greek" buildings from Chronos, Egyptian Palace Elements from Apophis, Local Architecture fit to the climate and some more varied elements like the Murals from Zipacna. This planet had no differences that came to one's eye, the palace was built in a vaguely pagoda-style with multiple floors stacked on top of another and the buildings connected or divided through slanted walls and fortified lower floors that could as well resist an attacking army as an earth quake. It was a rather good imitation of what the architecture on Tian, the capital world of Lord Yu might have looked like – only that the craftsman involved with this building simply had neither the experience nor the material to build an equally splendour-filled building.

The Dark wood that graced the façade of the buildings was clearly only painted with some kind of colour or another, everywhere tears were showing in the wood, or where the lacquer had peeled off, the lighter and duller looking local wood shined through, at least for most of the upper regions of the palace. The older floors seemed to be worked out of a dark lasting wood that must have been imported to the planet in its prosperous days when it served as a fleet outpost and shipyard for various Lords. Today the palace did seem to be built from the same materials as the city below it and its ornaments were clumsy and meaningless – just a set of images that were copied on and on around the same building.

If the palace was a clumsy imitation of an imitation, the city wasn't much better. Some of the man and woman who bowed before us as the street seemed to part before the two of us and our escorts, were quite clearly well off if their silken clothes and ornate jewellery was any indication. But once again it was "just" local make or at least local style. None of them were trying to emphasize their status by adorning themselves with more foreign imported jewellery and many of them seemed to wear the best pieces in the second or third generation with the silver – that seemed to be the most well liked precious metal on Yinxu- being from better days. The structure of the city itself told the same language of a slow decay – it wasn't called Ruins of Yin for nothing. The streets under our feet were paved with large slabs of stone – precisely cut and laid out for an ease of walking and transporting goods, but even this work seemed to have fallen prey to adventurous house builders, as sometimes whole parts of the streets were missing the stones, which were just a few steps further propped up as the lower part of the façade of newly build houses.

Over all the city had the feel of a ghost town to it, sometimes you only needed to take a turn left or right to find yourself before a barricade of sorts, with stones from the street having been torn out to form it and behind you could see whole districts empty of any live and decaying as the wood rotted away. Cydippe didn't found this as interesting as me, but she most likely never had tried to make head or tails out of city planning in the late antiquity – this was giving interesting parallels to say the least. With the palace at the centre the city had drawn into itself – but not in an "orderly" fashion that first gives up the outer districts and then slowly pulls inwards in a circle, but in rough patches of still living areas mixed and sprinkled into given up streets that had been sealed up. Weirdly fitting if you compared it to the empty floating shipyards on the fills above the streets, with two of them already having collapsed in themselves and falling over in disrepair.

"Scribe Anai – do you happen to know what that is?"

Cydippe called out strangely formal, the echo of her symbiont voice sending the people around us to the floor on their knees again, pressing their heads down into the dirt as we passed by them – that was making me feel even more uncomfortable than the worship the Jaffa showed on Chulak. The unintended – or intended- side effect was that the whole street was busy throwing themselves into the dust before our feet once more -and with our small walk having brought us closer to one of the craftsman districts of the city, the clothing that was on these people had the same colour as the ground anyway- opening the view on a tiny little building that was wedged in between two larger workshops and spilled onto the street with wooden walls and a cloth-roof that was keeping the area before it shady. In this area three rows of small stools had been laid out and the people that had been sitting on it till a moment before were busy kowtowing before us, one kneel and two times touching the ground with their head "only" as we were visiting gods, with the third time being the moment they stayed in that position till we moved away. Only that Cydippe didn't seem intent on stepping away, instead she went under the awning and stalked past the stools, stepping over the prostrating locals with her heavily armoured boots, surprisingly not hitting anyone's hands. Following her more carefully and pushing a few stools to the side as I gave our two accompanying Jaffa's a small glance as they took position to both sides of the shop…. well not shop: theatre.

Cydippe was already busy tapping against the finely woven scrim that was illuminated by a light somewhere behind it, with a palatial architecture being thrown against the screen from behind – and this time it was truly strange as it was also quite heavily inspired or copied from the pagoda style around us, but there were…columns? It was a shadow play! Something that seemed to stump Cydippe for a small moment – after all if her Queen had been one of Cronus, she might not have many information on customs and activities in regions being culturally more affiliated with Lord Yu and his "Chinese" theme.

"It is a theatre. A Shadow play – they are depicting scenes with the help of cut-out figures that throw a shadow against the screen before us: like the palace you are seeing right now."

"And what are they playing?"

Looking up at the wax tablet that was hanging next to the screen, I read out fluently – something the first Tribune could have easily done herself:

"The heritage of Ra."

"Well – why aren't they playing then? I would like to see a scene."

With this she sat down in the first row, claiming a stool for herself and crossing her arms as she sat down in nearly complete armour, observing the screen stoically as movement was audible from behind. With a small sigh, I took a seat next to her – the sounds of the puppeteers behind the screen standing up and quickly pulling out their tools- waiting for the show to begin and trying to ignore all those kneeling humans around us that weren't going to stand up till we left: most likely this etiquette was far more bearable when your gods didn't leave their palace like Lady Wa and her servants did. Thankfully music soon started to drift into the audience "room" from the back of the little theatre, some kind of string instrument and a little set of bells ringing in a slow mournful melody as the middle of the palatial scene was filled out with a sarcophagus. Only that this one was for one quite decidedly done in the typical Egyptian look that Telchak favoured when he first created them and judging from the music it wasn't going to serve as a tool of miraculous healing and revival, but as an object in a funeral and judging from the large stylized eye that was shining on its centre, this play seemed to be quite aware of the politics of the day. Most likely they would have been playing another take on the loyalty of their Lady Wa, if our arrival wouldn't have given them some juicier news to play with and thus the narrator began:

" _Slain was the Mighty and Just Ra – consumed in a blaze of light matching his glory._

 _Hidden and Abstracted from mortal eyes for all time to come._

 _He leaves a realm of ten times ten times ten times ten – worlds that bloomed under his wise rulership._

 _He leaves the family of the gods raptured as they lost brother, father and protector._

 _But he, Ra the victorious, Ra the merciful, Ra the mightiest of the System Lords, Ra Supreme Lord,_

 _Did not die in the glory of combat – but with an assassin's weapon pointed at his very divine essence._

 _He leaves us – a universe that prospered under his aegis and never faltering watchful gaze,_

 _He leaves our gods, his children and siblings without his guidance._

 _But the Great Ra did elevate himself from our mortal world in the knowledge that his work was safe,_

 _Our gods are plentiful and each of them infallible and all powerful."_

The elegy sung by the mournful choir subsided as other figures slowly but steadily entered the scene on the screen, arriving from both sides half a dozen figures slowly but steadily stepped to the sarcophagus, their limbs held by small sticks and wires that lead to the unseen hands of their puppeteers and each of them recognizable in a way. Then while all of them were wearing clothes that wouldn't look too strange at the court of Lady Wa -long flowing robes with ornate patterns cut into them to play with the light- each of them was also marked with the insignia of one System Lord or the other. The first to step forward was a heavily stylized figure of no one other but Heur'ur, his chest adorned by the diving falcon and his shoulder armoured with pointy pauldrons that fit quite well to the overly large sword that was stripped to his back: a fitting depiction for the most warlike of the Goa'uld, even if the long flowing hair on his head was most decidedly artistic freedom. The choir began again as he stepped forward, his paper arms flailing wildly and the music entered a boastful tone:

" _Thus stepped forward Heru'ur, named Horus. Son of the Mighty Ran and beautiful Hathor, son of the father and mother of gods._

 _Claiming the stars as his, his war proven arm stretched out towards the jewels of his father, the might of his ferocious armies at his back._

 _For Heru'ur is a warrior without peer, unable to be beat in mortal combat!"_

The figure of Heru'ur on the screen seemed to bluster up in self-importance at these words, his arms raised for a moment as if he show of his prowess, grasping the large sword and stepping towards the sarcophagus and reaching for the Eye on its mist with red hands. But in that moment the next figure stepped out of the circle of system lords, a long bearded and wise looking Apophis with the tall and formal headwear of an Imperial Lord or Magistrate. He merely raised his hands and a lesser Goa'uld, with a trio of lesser Jaffa went forward, covering the seal with the heads of their staff weapons and once again the music changed, this time towards a sense of danger, with long dark strings as she choir seemed to shift its pitch:

" _But as Heru'ur stepped forward to claim what he deemed his by might, the shining Apophis, his uncle, claimed by right – for he was the brother and peer of Ra, while Heru'ur was barely given planets and ships to prove his worth._

 _A masterful tactician, a generous and just Lord is Apophis,_

 _He set out for nothing more than to secure the heritage of his brother, to secure peace and stability through the domains of the gods._

 _Far goes Lord Apophis reach and many follow his commands – for many stand against him with the ambitious Horos._

 _Bastet the goddess of woman, rewarded for her loyalty for Ra is defending her followers from the other gods and the death bringing Kali stands at her side._

 _The Lord of Time and the heavenly Emperor watch the war that is brewing up with worry and muster their own troops. For we life in interesting times, when the gods go to war."_

The music had taken a small crescendo and ended on a deeper darker note at its end, my eyes going from one side to another: neither Yinxu nor its people had any stake in this war – at least till our ship had arrived and taken their people to work for us in this war, to serve as camp followers and colonists should it be needed. The only other person whose face I could see wasn't sharing the same worries in anyway, quite to the contrary – the grin that seemed to split apart the face of the first tribune reminded me once again that the Goa'uld were a prideful, parasitic and violent species, especially if challenged. None of the Lords named in this little scene were going to back down, none of them were going to talk as long as they were only expanding ships and Jaffa without setting their own lives on the line. Many of them were old enough to remember the last rebellion against their Supreme ruler and the one before that – but this time there was no clear leader, none that was powerful than the other as Ra had kept all of them at a similar strength to stop them from thinking of rebellion: and now this left the Goa'uld System Lords without any Hegemon to take charge. And oh deus…they were going to enjoy it, to let loose after so long and give their ambition a chance to fulfil itself to its fullest. Even Cydippe wasn't so different, she couldn't imagine how this war was really going to turn out: not in riches and glory, but in the utter destruction of everything they know and think of as natural – leaving the last of us hiding on the furthest and darkest planets of this galaxy to evade being hunted down by the many people that would love nothing more than to destroy us utterly. I can't even remember much about how we stood up, the first tribune threw two of her rings through the screen of all things and then accompanied me to the shop, where I paid for their work and let the two Jaffa that accompanied us carry the carefully carved wooden box I had gotten.

She stayed silent for most of the trip and I only absently answered a question or two of her as we went back to the ship and into my chambers, quickly pouring myself and her of course too some of the grape wine. I'm not sure if Goa'uld should even know what panic is or were generally too far invested in their own sense of superiority and invincibility. As I nursed another drink from my glass, the first Tribune gestured lightly towards the red lacquered box and after I gave her a small nod in return she opened and…paused surprised for a moment as she reached down gingerly and pulled out a tiny miniature: one that was cast in white metal and coloured with oil-rich enamel paint that gave the whole thing a glossy and shiny surface, following the contours of the single armour plates and the single rings of chainmail the Jaffa wore beneath. The staff weapon in his tiny hands was held on hip height in a way the Jaffa would take when moving forward with his comrades and the black sign of Apophis was painted on his tiny forehead, while his face was contorted in a silent war cry. Putting it to the side the older Goa'uld slowly asked:

"Toys? For your Ward?"

Her voice neither disapproving nor particular encouraging – simply a bit stunned. After all a god usually didn't take the time to prepare toys for his believers, well except if the later were going to be part of the show. If any Goa'uld ever got the idea to create a zombie movie, they would most likely just create a real zombie outbreak to make it more entertaining. Taking another breath and banishing my doubts about our future into the back of my mind, where the faint, unborn ideas on how to deal with it were also waiting – except for the one that was currently getting unpacked before me. Looking into those dark intelligent eyes as they mustered me in return and thinking of how little time we still had…I finally reached to the side, taking another sip from my glass, feeling the bitter fluid running down my neck as I handed her a small tablet with the rules I had been working on. Her eyebrows rose after a moment and her eyes went from the rules I had drawn partly out of my memory and partly from my own ideas, her hands searching in the box and slowly pulling out other miniatures: a Horus guard, a Serpent guard and a team of Jaffa lugging around a staff cannon. Helpfully I grasped the small side compartment and opened it to show off maybe two dozen dice made out of bone that went from six to ten sided.

"A game to teach him tactics and war. After all I promised his family to educate him in all matters that are of importance to a Jaffa like him – and this might be the medium for him to learn quite well. Do you want to give this a try?"

The question seemed to catch her a bit off guard, after all games between Goa'uld tended to be more along the lines of cards, dice, draughts or some faintly chess-like game. This was a bit more complex and maybe simply not abstracted enough from what it was going to depict – but knowing the range, effect and other technical data of all weapons involved, made designing a game quite a bit easier as soon as you found out how to translate the various length units into smaller ones for the game. Soon my office table had been clearer of papers, one of the battle maps had been chosen and two centuries of Jaffa without any other support were standing across over a river and I was already looking through the box to find the range finger and the ranged combat rules for staff weapons, when Cydippe asked two seemingly innocent questions. The first directed at a more peculiar model of a staff weapon, which was fixed on a carriage of all things and the other about the rules that had simply been labelled "Entrenching Options". Still a bit distracted I answered her fully…


End file.
